The Great Thaw
by pumped.up.kicks86
Summary: Winter is deep and dark, the war drums have fallen silent and the snow is settling, the pieces of the game have landed where they might and now the frozen players must thaw in order to thrive. Matches must be made, keeps kept and hearts mended if the peace is to hold, for the Game of Thrones is never truly over.
1. Chapter 1

**A Note from the Writer: While this story is canon... to an extent, imagination did trump knowledge at some points. enjoy.**

Arya

Arya was the last living Stark to return to Winterfell, She'd known she wasn't 'nobody' all along in the dark recesses of her mind where she kept the thoughts that plagued her in the moments between wakefulness and sleep, but she hadn't truly realised it until she saw _him_ in Braavos. There had been reports that the war was over but she'd heard them all before and refused to believe it, war and Death were never over they merely shifted tact... Her wolf dreams were gone, she had no eyes to confirm or deny reports in the west… that's how she'd felt as she stalked the banks of the Hero's Canal wearing a face that wasn't hers. And then she'd seen them, the imp first… her blood had boiled and a wretched hatefulness seared in her veins but her gaze had shifted to his companion and her blood ran cold. Her neck began to prickle with icy heat and she'd turned on her heels and run back to the house of black and white, back to her hidden bundle, to her own face.

She'd flung the door open, expecting no one, the waif and the kindly man stood, the man looked placid the waif had a self-satisfied smirk and was holding out needle towards her.

"You'll be needing this"

"My brother…" Arya started.

"yes, he is on his way here."

"Why"

They didn't answer, she removed the face that was never hers and exchanged it for the dulled blade.

"This isn't the place for somebody."

"I am…" she was interrupted by the kindly man.

"Arya Stark." He'd said finally as if naming her himself. There was a knock on the large door which shook her heart and she turned to stare at the thick dark wood. She made to say goodbye to her companions of these past years but they were gone and she was alone. The door knocked again, she moved towards it silently, her legs trembling uncontrollably. As she pulled it open she whispered his name "Jon?" and he needed no more prompting, he'd know her voice, her eyes, her strange little expression anywhere.

"Arya." He fell to his knees to better look at her, it had been so long but she had grown so little "Arya" he repeated, he seemed lost for words and he pulled her into him and held her so tight she could barely breathe. Needle dropped in the commotion rolled to the feet of Jon Snow's companion, The Imp seemed just as pleased to see her as her brother.

"What are you…" his question was interrupted by a sobbing plea she didn't know she had in her.

"I want to go home Jon." She sounded so young as she said it, but she was seven and ten now and had been gone almost half her life, but she missed it all the same. It never stopped being home, no matter what she told the faceless, Winterfell never stopped being the beacon of hope on the periphery of her mind.

Jon needed no more instruction, he had swooped her up and marched her swiftly to the port demanding passage on the first vessel across the narrow sea. They hadn't waited long; the hands of the queens do not wait. Before she knew it she was back at the Salt Pans, Jon attempted to coax some of the story out of her on the voyage but she'd denied him, opting to snuggle into his side like she had when she was younger only now Ghost joined them. Tyrion for his part made himself scarce on the crossing and when they finally reached the Salt Pans he bid them farewell and headed south to his own queen.

Arya hadn't expected Sansa to be happy to see her, she expected a coolness. She didn't know why, but she'd always assumed Sansa blamed her for everything. She couldn't have been more wrong, Jon hadn't sent any ravens forward, there were still Bolton's and Frey's and Wildings who weren't happy with how the chips had fallen. Arya Stark was still a valuable pawn, even though the Game of Thrones was apparently at an end. At first sight Sansa had fallen to her knees, her crown had dropped and rolled into a recess completely unnoticed. The few knights who stood guard in the Great Winter Hall made to help her but Jon waved them away. The first thing she'd said to Arya as she pulled her down to her, the very first thing to fall from her lips was "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry my little sister". Arya had been shocked and also a little broken, she'd sobbed into her sisters arms and felt sorely ashamed afterwards. All those knights would think her a stupid girl now.

She had opted that night to tell Sansa and Jon some things, she needed to give her confessional to her kin. She listed off the men and woman she'd killed, one at a time, she told them of her training in the art of death (omitting the face part) she told them of the Hound and her forgiveness and his death.

"He's not dead." Sansa had interjected with a grin

"I can call him if proof is what you seek." Jon added when Arya remained silent and disbelieving.

"He was healed by some Wildling priest and he tried to find you he promised me he'd bring you home."

"So he's your knight now?" Arya almost chuckled

"No… you know how he feels about titles. He just helps and as queen that's all that can be asked. But now that the North has a crown again there are _some_ knights." Sansa had smiled, she obviously liked the idea of a bunch of 'Sers' roaming the North doing good deeds.

Arya had avoided the whole "queen" business for as long as she could, since her return she'd heard nothing but "your grace" or "Princess" or the Occasional "My Lady" the whole notion of Northern regal titles was new to everyone it seemed.

"you're a queen?" Arya couldn't think how to approach the topic delicately "How?"

"An accord between myself and The Queen of the south was made after we won at the wall and before we took Kings Landing. Her Dragons were necessary but they weren't the only thing holding the Others and the Wights back; steal, wolves, fire and men did the leg work." Arya knew all of this already, because she'd seen it. She couldn't explain how, but she'd been at her sisters back leading a pack… she had been one of those wolves "The north protected the realm while the south pissed their pants and fought over whose god was better." Arya couldn't help but gasp when her sister cursed. "When Daenerys Stormborn the mother of Dragons took the iron throne we were at her side Arya and she rewarded the north its bravery and loyalty with its freedom." Sansa concluded with a very regal nod, the trio continued to swap tales well into the night. Arya told them about her time as a mummer, Jon told her about Tyrion and the Dragon Queen while Sansa skirted round her time with lord little finger.

"He's dead you know." Arya said with a wry smile.

"You?" Sansa asked

"No, but I got to watch. He owed a great debt to the iron bank he could not pay." Sansa seemed satisfied with this.

After more talk Arya was led to her room, the room that had always been hers, the room she'd slept in since before her memory began. It looked exactly as it had back then only everything was new, the bed, the chest the tapestry… they were all the same but new. It had been Sansa, in typical Sansa fashion's first 'project' when the snow settled and the war finally came to its… what? Conclusion? Queen of the north Sansa Stark, nobody dared call her Lannister, had made it clear to all and sundry that she would keep the peace, as her father had done. No more war, no more death… at least for the time being as she turned her mind to rebuilding Winterfell. All of her family's rooms were returned to their previous glory, even Robb's just in case they should return now that peace had fallen, to show there was always a place for them in the walls of Winterfell. Sentimental nonsense in Arya's opinion.


	2. Chapter 2

Jon

He couldn't describe the relief he'd felt when he'd seen her face in the crack of that door, to see that she was alive. The relief was twofold as he'd been convinced the imp was going to try and introduce him to yet another foreign lady whom the crown needed wed. Jon may well be the hand of the North but he was also a Targaryen, or at least that's what everyone told him. Right now the queen was the last, there was talk of a blue haired boy making claims but the imp and the spider's little birds had lost track of him. Jon hoped the little shit would surface soon and take the weighty burden off of him, he'd received a raven not a week prior to leaving Winterfell for Braavos;

 _My dearest Nephew,_

 _For that is what you are, I understand that you are a man of the North and nothing I can do will change that. I have it on good authority you are very much opposed to the proposal I have made._ (the proposal had been exactly that… and Jon had no desire to marry his long lost aunt nor sit on that ugly fucking throne) _and I respect this decision, you are honourable Jon, and I must prey upon that honour in the hopes that someday soon you will take a bride and provide heirs and that you will take your family name! You my beloved nephew have been legitimized. You are no Bastard, and according to several reliable sources you never were_ (he'd heard this too, his mother and that Prince had married under a heart tree in Dorne… nonsense) _Take a wife, take her North, take her to your bed and put a baby in her. It is not a difficult task I ask, so please consider._

 _Yours Daenerys._

He was always shocked that she didn't put all her titles in her missives, he had balled the letter and thrown it into the flames with a grunt of irritation. His mind wandered again to Arya, he'd been glad they'd found her and restored her to Winterfell so glad he'd prayed for the first time in years, he'd fallen to his knees beneath the heart tree and given thanks to the old gods and prayed for her to find her own peace. The first week she barely spoke, she hadn't been herself but a month back at home had worn her sharp corners down a little… but only a little.

"Thank the gods someone to fight with!" Arya had called when he finally trudged into the training yard, three of the queen's guards were sat behind her looking cut up and bruised, they stared at their princess with disdain. It reminded Jon of his first days in the watch, when he'd beaten them all and felt so satisfied until the old armourer had brought him down. Only… unlike Grenn and Pyp these boys did have the benefit of a highborn tutelage, these were all Lordlings with armourers and the finest steel but perhaps it could be a teachable moment. He drew her aside with one arm;

"Arya, you have a very unique sword technique" he said diplomatically, and she did… she fought fast and with precision and she moved in unprecedented ways but she was equally adept at hand to hand, well when it was Arya it was more foot to chin. She could knock a man unconscious with one kick much to the delight and the despair of the knights she trained with.

"what do you want Jon?" Arya asked with one eyebrow raised, one hand on hip and a look in her eye that said 'I know you want something'

"Rather than repeatedly cutting the Queen's guard to ribbons, and breaking their jaws…" Arya stopped him with a raised finger and a scrunched nose

"They don't have to fight me if the they don't want!" she declared defensively.

"They do, you are their princess they are sworn to obey you!" Jon shot back, Arya for her part looked utterly shocked and dumbfounded, she turned on her heel to look at the three battered men

"Is that true? Do you just train with me because you think you have to?" Jon groaned, the men didn't need the added confusion of a princess demanding honesty. One man shook his head, one nodded and the other just stared eyes front… pretending he hadn't heard. "Well then I order you from now on to not assume every suggestion I make is an order!" she yelled angrily.

"How will we know My Grace?" the man who'd shook his head asked

"When it is an order… I'll say 'This is a fucking order' is that clear enough for you?" they all nodded their heads this time.

"If you're here you might be useful" Jon said coming to stand by her side and end the awkward and confusing pain felt by the Queens Guard. "Boys it's shocking that this girl… who is no more than ten and seven can beat you, over and over. Your job is to defend the queen and right now if she came up against anyone as competent as your princess she'd be dead." They looked suitably ashamed and Jon was pleased, he missed this… he missed commanding men, making them better, making an army. He wrote scrolls to southerners now, met with merchants, advised his sister and helped rule. He missed this.

"I want you all here first light tomorrow, Princess Arya will be teaching you how to… what do you call that?" he imitated her side on stance.

"Water Dancing." She smiled as they groaned.

"She'll be teaching you how to water dance, tell the other men, I want all the Queens guard who aren't on duty here and we will keep doing this until one of you can disarm your princess… that's an order." The three men hobbled off, to no doubt tell their brothers the 'good news'

"Shall we?" she asked arms spread.

"You know it's not a fair fight." He said with a wolfish grin "I am the Sword of 'the lord'" he used the ridiculous title those crazy fire bastards had given him.

"And I'm the wolf girl of Winterfell" she turned her body side on and pointed her training sword at him, it was thin like needle but the end had been corked so she poked his chest her feet dancing playfully. He grabbed a training sword of his own from the rack and gave her blade a little tap "on your guard" he said taking a step forward, forcing her back.

"have you had a haircut?" she asked as she danced backwards avoiding his advances with ease.

"oh you're a chatty fighter!" he said with a grunt of realization as he swung his sword with two hands, pinning her thinner blade to the ground. He thought he had her when she looked forlorn, but he realised too late that it had been an act, she quickly slid her training needle from his grip and rebutted with a swift slap to his thighs with the side of the thin but dull blade. He was still drawing his own sword back when he felt the crack, it smarted like hell and reminded him sorely of a punishment he'd received from Septa for a crime he could no longer remember, the punishment however would never leave him. He rubbed his thigh and looked at her with accusation "ow."

"and I see you are a slow one." She rebutted finally as she found her stance again.

He thrust again and she parried it effortlessly, their blades clanked vigorously his brute force matched by her speed and her own strength. A crowd had gathered to watch "yield now big brother, it would not do for the 'lords sword' to be bested by a little girl in public!" she called over the clangs, the knights, guards and stable boys who had gathered all chuckled, bets were made and some hoped to finally see the wolf girl defeated.

"Never." He returned, he was having fun… it was strange to acknowledge it but it had been a long while since he'd truly had fun. This was one of the things he'd imagined at the wall, this was one of the scenarios he'd play in his head when he'd take stock of all the things he'd never get to do. He'd been sure she was dead and saw his own as imminent, and he'd so wanted to teach her how to fight he'd never imagined her returning a trained sword with the reflexes of a tom cat. After much grunting and several close calls, he finally had her, he twisted out of reach brought his sword over his shoulder and at a speed to rival her own swung his blunted blade, flat side on to her shins. To her credit she did jump, only too late, the steel caught her booted feet, dragging her legs out from under her leaving her flat on her back. The congregated men cheered and she smiled up at him with great sport "do you yield?" he asked playfully, she rolled onto her side and propped her head up on her elbow posing like a maid in a tapestry, the watching stable boys laughed and Jon joined them... he shouldn't have, before he knew what was happening Arya had spun on her hip and somehow managed to lock his legs in-between her own, with a final surge of movement she twisted her own body and slammed bringing him down to the floor. With her cat like agility she released his legs and flipped back up to her feet, her sword still in hand and pointed directly at his heart.

"I call it a draw" She said casting her sword to the side and reaching down to aid him, the men applauded and dispersed having enjoyed the brief show.

"You bested me." He said as he grabbed her arm and clambered to his feet.

"I cheated… you had me and I caused a distraction with my 'feminine wiles'" she drawled sarcastically. he looked at her mud coated face and hunched shoulders, and couldn't help the snort of laughter.

"I missed you, I missed you so much little sister." He said pulling her into a one armed hug and kissing her mud covered pate. She tensed slightly under his hug, but only momentarily. "I missed you too Jon." He heard a muffled voice from his boiled leather clad chest and felt that wave of relief he often got when he realised again that it was all over. It was similar to the waves of grief he got when he'd suddenly remember that Robb was dead only these ones lightened him.

He parted ways with Arya who had intentions of running with her wolf and made for his father's old Solar, now Sansa's… though they still called it father's. Perhaps in years to come it would remain known simply as Father's Solar and nobody would really know why. The door was open a crack and he watched as Sansa scribbled furiously, her body-man Podrick Payne standing stock still close behind in full armour, he knocked on the door gently and Sansa looked up.

"Might I have a minute Sansa?" he asked, stepping inside. His father's smell was still there.

"You're filthy."

He ignored her chiding tone and walked to her desk, Podrick nodded at him with reverence. He liked Pod, pod had served under him during the Long Night, he'd been Sansa's body man but he'd answered to Jon Snow and when Jon had told him to stick to Sansa he'd taken it very seriously, he hadn't left her side since.

"I'd like to take command of your guard." He said simply, her eyes shot up at him.

"Podrick commands my guard." Her tone was defensive.

"Podrick spends every minute of every day following you around Sansa, he's got no time for training or drills. I don't mean to take the title, merely the job." Jon reasoned looking to Pod for some form of backing, he knew the man had the role in title only, his lieutenants did the training.

"Pod?" she asked, turning to look at him with querying eyes.

"I have no qualms." He stated keeping his eyes forward, a blush crept up his face and Jon couldn't help but feel a little guilty.

"If I can be honest… Ser Podrick, I miss it. I was lord commander of the night's watch, a post I thought I'd die in." he did not mention that he had "And as hand I am fine when it comes to traders and controlling the crows but… I'm no politician and Sansa I know you've got smarter men than me on your side" He was well aware of the Imp and his Sister's new found friendship in lieu of an actual marriage "It'd make me feel useful." He finished, attempting to mend some of the pride he may have damaged in the young Podrick. The knight nodded his appreciation and Sansa tilted her head from side to side, clearly weighing up the proposition.

"What kind of training do you intend brother?" Sansa asked, and he smiled again. He liked when she called him that, after years of hearing her call him 'half' it was always reassuring to know that even though he was not her brother at all she considered him her full kin.

"Arya will train them in sword play…" The whole intent of this meeting, he'd set things into motion in the yard without prior consent from his queen… he knew she wouldn't be angry merely irked.

"Arya?"

"Sansa she almost bested me, well she did best me but she cheated" Sansa stifled a laugh at this "Your Grace, not one of your guard has beaten her, she was trained by a house of assassins this much we know." He looked suddenly to Podrick who's face always betrayed him, there was no shock… Sansa had already told him "If they trained her they have trained others, others who could be persuaded to kill you. I need to know your guard is capable of defending you."

"Lord Jon is right my Grace; your safety must be paramount" Podrick interjected.

"Well there we have it. Jon you will take charge of my guard… Master of the Queen's guard and Hand to the Throne Lord Jon… have you picked a name yet?" she enquired in that nudging way she did when she thought him silly.

"No." Jo responded his demeanour sour again.

"My Grace…" Sam had popped his head round the door "her Grace Arya would like to know if you could be tempted to walk with her in the Godswood with the wolves?" The Maester said with a smile, he was oft encouraging his queen to take more leisure time and the return of her sister had afforded him more opportunities. She complained about headaches and Sam was convinced it was because she frowned so persistently, Jon was convinced it was because that crown was so heavy but never voiced this opinion.

"I think I will." She stood and Podrick made to move forward with her "Ser Podrick you stay here and take something to sup, Arya will be more likely to talk if we are alone." She said with a kind smile and a confidential pat on his arm. Jon watched the knights face fight the forlorn expression it was desperate to cast, with a great struggle Pod managed neutrality in time for his queens eyes to be cast upon him. "goodbye Jon" she said softly with a wave of her hand as she left with a preoccupied expression, Arya hadn't eased as comfortably back into life with Sansa as she had with him. Their relationship had never been an easy one but he did know that Sansa harboured a great deal of guilt, and assumed that Arya too had similar feelings but probably not to the same extent.

"Give them time." Sam said noting Jon's contemplative face.

"Stop reading my thoughts Samwell." Jon shot only half joking, he'd long since decided the Maester was some sort of emotional warg, he seemed to absorb other people's feelings giving a simple voice to them no matter how complex they initially seem.

"Pod, go eat." Jon said suddenly, noting that the knight had not moved from his spot.

"I eat when My Grace is in her chamber" he said all honour and nobility, ever the good knight.

"That cannot be healthy." Samwell responded entering the solar fully.

"I have a routine."

"Fuck sake Pod, she's not going to suddenly die if you're not staring at her." Jon shot, he felt for the lad. He knew the pressure of lives in your hands but the war was won he'd done his job well.

Samwell tried a softer approach "Don't you have a hobby?"

"Or a girl in town?" Jon added thinking this would help.

"I don't have a girl my Lord" Pod declared, his hackles clearly up he was on the defensive and Jon could sense it.

"Well it would be difficult to find a girl wouldn't it Pod while you're staring so hard at my sister" Jon had meant it as a jape, like the ribbings they would give on the wall. Something to lighten the mood but when he saw the blood rushing to the man's face through the gaps on his helmet he realised that perhaps he had found the route of Pod's problems. Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably and Jon raised his hands in a sign of peace "a jest Pod, now go eat something that's an order." The knight seemed to take the order with gratitude as he almost ran from the room.

"well that was tactful" Sam glared at him with accusation

"What did I do?" he asked genuinely shocked by this revelation.

"Everyone knows Podrick is in love with… well with the queen." the Maester gasped with exasperation.

"since when?"

Samwell Tarly shook his head "you really do know nothing"


	3. Chapter 3

Sansa

Royal princess Arya Stark had been back in her home keep for almost three months before Sansa had broached the very sensitive subject of her future, she allowed her a spell of selfishness, a time to reacquaint and reacclimatize. Winter had come and it was beyond cold. Luckily the North had a thriving fur and timber trade and Winterfell, a hot spring to heat the walls. Sansa found more often than not she thought in terms of "the North", what was best for "The North" was best for her. She opted to broach the "Arya Problem" over a dinner of kidney puddings and root vegetables, a quiet affair with only Arya, Sansa and Sansa's body man standing guard… just in case.

Sansa had entered her father's old solar to find Arya already there, dressed in leather breeches with a grubby shirt tucked in haphazardly. She'd been out playing with Rickon and the wolves in the Godswood. Sansa in stark contrast was dressed from head to toe in grey silk, with a whit fur trim and her now customary crown. The servants brought the food and the two sisters sat in silence as they ate.

"Are you enjoying it?" Sansa asked, indicating her little sister who was currently gobbling the food down like she hadn't eaten in ten years.

"yes."

"you'd think those assassins didn't feed you sister." Sansa laughed haughtily at her own little joke.

"I've got to get some training in before sunset." Arya stated plainly.

"dancing?"

Arya couldn't help but laugh at this.

"there is something of great import we must discuss Arya"Her voice cut through the laughter and Sansa noted how her own voice sounded like her mothers.

"Is this about Jon not being our brother? Bran explained it to me… and all I can say is I don't care for it. Call him what you will, Jon Snow, Jon Stark or Jon Targaryen, he is my brother." Arya punctuated her point by spearing a carrot and waving it with finality.

"No, this isn't about Jon. And he's opted to remain a Snow for the time being. This is about you" Arya's frantic chewing halted.

"what have I done?"

"You haven't _done_ anything; I _need_ for you to do something though… for me." Sansa was wringing her hands. "I need you to be wed Arya."

Arya Stark had not been expecting this, not one bit. "Wed? to whom? Which absolute dunder headed knight do you intend to pack me off with? Podrick out there?" Arya pointed her fork at the Queen's man angrily and she heard him shake in his armour in response.

"Ser Podrick to you" Sansa never called him by his family's name. "and no not unless you've taken a fancy to him. You will choose who you marry, that is my gift to you. But you must choose."

"Why?" Arya moaned loudly, she thought she'd made this clear repeatedly. She was not the marrying type. She wore breeches for the sake of the gods, she liked swordplay and swilling ale.

"because I want to set you up in your own Keep, I want to ensure there are Starks in the north to keep the peace and defend the land. Bran is betrothed to the Crannogmen girl and will take her father's seat when he passes and Rickon well he's too young. I need my sister, in the North holding a keep… and the only way I can do that is if you are married!" Sansa was frustrated, she and her estranged 'husband' had written furiously on the subject. The men of the realm were already irritated that they had been conquered by two women, if the queens then started making the lords of the realm women too, well they had barely tolerated the Mormont woman and her daughters… no they would not stand for it.

"but…" Arya made to protest.

"Arya you may pick anyone, as long as he is a man and there is a slight possibility he will put a baby in your belly I do not care. Pick some old lord ready for the bone pile, you only need touch his wrinkly old cock once and be done with it. He'll die and you'll be a happy widow."

"Sansa, if the Septa could hear you now." Arya couldn't help but giggle.

"I spent a year at Castle Black with no one but wildings and crows to talk to." Sansa said in way of explanation. "You can pick anyone Arya… have you a name?"

"Anyone?" Arya cocked her head to one side. "I don't know where he is My Grace." She jibed.

"I will find your prince My Princess." Sansa shot back.

"I chose the Bastard Gendry, a smithy from the south. I don't know if he's still alive."

"I'll find him."

"You won't!" Arya folded her arms, she looked for a second like her nine-year-old self. "And If you don't I won't pick another Sansa." She looked sternly at her older sister, at her queen.

"Arya, my sweet and darling sister that his not how this game is played. You will be married; you must be married…"

"Brienne…" Arya made to interrupt with a name she had oft heard spoken, a woman with no ties and her father's keep as her own.

"Runs a _very_ small keep and is beloved by her people, and if the letters from my husband are to be believed I gather she may not be 'on the market shelf' for much longer." Sansa smiled as she tried to placate her sister "You are the kin of the new queen Arya; you are not anonymous anymore… I need to know you are in a strong keep" she didn't mention the Dreadfort not yet. "And I need to know you have strong men surrounding you." Arya tried to interrupt again but Sansa ploughed on "I know you can fight Arya but you can't fight a rebel army singlehandedly…" she took a beat "And I need you to make babies. There is a strong chance Bran cannot and Rickon is too young, Jon is well… Jon and that leaves us… and the future of our house, of our name…" she had lost her composure "The memories of mother and father, that all can't rest on my shoulders Arya I need to know you will help." Tears welled up in her eyes, this was the first she'd shared this burden.

"But Gendry's a Bastard!" Arya only said it half-heartedly, Sansa could see her sister had been defeated by her own honour.

"So is your brother, and I'll legitimize him besides. I'm a queen and if this man is real and does marry you he will be doing a service to the realm, he'll deserve it… now chop chop my little princess, you've got swords to swing and I've a Bastard Smithy to find." Sansa could tell by the look on her little sisters face that this matter was closed and she would do her duty. Or she would run… that was always an option.


	4. Chapter 4

Tyrion

"Ha" he thought nestled between the queens legs high above the kingdom "Ha Ha father" he roared to the clouds as the Dragon sped through the sky and he thrilled in the sensation of the air hitting his face. He was pushed close to the bosom of a young and beautiful queen and he couldn't have cared less about it. He was riding a Dragon, a real flesh and bone dragon and he was allowed to ride it… with the Queen… but still, he was flying.

"I can only take you as far as the Neck my lord" the queen called over the roar of air.

"I understand your Grace; you're saving me at least a fortnight of travel." He called back trying to not blink, fearful he'd miss something.

The dragon reared slightly as it started to make its descent, the air warmed as he did. Tyrion saw the twins, the new keepers of the border between North and South, unofficially known as the Wolf and the Dragon Edmure Tully's prize after the war. With Riverrun in ruins and his wife a Frey it seemed the only option at the time, Tyrion wondered if they'd come to regret that positioning in the future, Edmure was known for his over inflated sense of self.

Tyrion would journey the north in an armoured carriage with Southern and Northern Bannerman at his side, this wasn't just an envoy of diplomacy for him but a display that the North and the South were now brethren, equal, with sister queens. That had been his queen's idea, Daenerys had approached Sansa after the victory at the Wall, the descendant of Brandon the builder sat on her ancestor's barrier looking down at the heaps of bodies on either side. Her own robe was soaked with blood and she was surrounded on all sides by Wolves who growled and hunched when the Dragon Queen approached. It was the queens first time meeting, and Tyrion's first site of his 'wife' since his nephew's death. She was certainly not the little girl who had cowered at even the most innocent of touches, she was taller still and stronger than he'd remembered. But her face had been pale and her cheeks and eyes sunken. She had not spent the war in luxury like her foremothers. They had joined the fight at her behest but the Northern Queen had been so well hidden until the battle the only contact they'd had had been with her Kin Jon Snow. The Mother of Dragons had smiled at the girl before her, she'd petted the wolves as though she feared nothing and approached slowly.

"We are sisters in arms, Babes born to a land of war. We have stood together here and I hope my Grace we stand together here after." The Mother of Dragons and breaker of chains had kissed the pale Stark girl on the cheeks. "The north is no place for Dragons and the south no place for wolves. When the snow settles It would honour me if the Queen in the North would accept an alliance with the South." Tyrion had watched his wife's face and had known that these two were now bonded, in a very special way as if this was always how it should have been.

The journey from the Neck to Winterfell was not without its 'bumps'. Tyrion, as was his prerogative, had insisted they stop at several inns on the way, eager to bond the disparate banner-men. It had not been easy, these were boys who'd fought on the field now forced to sup with their enemy, but barring a few brawls and one shanking it hadn't been awful. They made quick time with the plough horses up ahead clearing the snow from the king's road in shifts, making space for the travellers. Nights were the hardest, none of the men north or south forgot the long night that had passed and the fear it had struck in them. There had come a time when daylight seemed to be a thing of the past and hope faded that it would ever return. The men huddled closer when night fell, neither cared of the others birth place when the lights went out.

When they finally arrived at Winterfell they were a full party, tired, wet and cold but intact. Only one knight with a punctured arm, from one of the Inn brawls.

"My lord." Sansa greeted him at the east gates. She had looked rather radiant in white furs and blue cottons, not entirely unlike her lady mother on his first arrival at Winterfell.

His party were fed, warmed and rested before any business was broached. Sansa was nothing if not a good host, the younger Stark girl was nowhere to be seen and he was later informed that her summer soft body had fallen to a fever in the sharply contrasted cold.

"She was playing in a bloody pond with her wolf" Sansa had whispered as they supped "Maester Tarly is seeing to her; she's not been a very willing patient. I'm sure she's done this just to spite me." At this Tyrion couldn't help but laugh, he couldn't imagine the youngest Stark girl being a pliant patient.

When they finally sat down to discuss the pressing matters he had at hand a day had already passed, he and his lady wife found themselves alone in the Winter hall, all guards and prying ears were sent out and only Ser Podrick remained at the far end and out of earshot.

"I come bearing fortuitous news my Grace." Tyrion smiled up at her fondly.

"I think given all we've been through my Lord we can use our given names, don't you think Tyrion?" she returned his smile and he was relieved. He had known any wrong he'd done her was forgiven long ago but he'd never forget her scared face on the night of her wedding. Her trembling voice and shaking hands.

"My dear Sansa, my Queen sends her warmest regards and has asked me to deliver to you personally the news of her new law. 'All those wed in her lands under the duress of war, who are without child are now freed of the bond forced upon them'." He patted her hand "sign this my Lady and 'we' never happened." He flourished a scroll from the small box on the table beside him.

Sansa hesitated

"You wish to remain married to "the imp"?" he said it jokingly, a small part of him wished it to be so but he tampered it, it wasn't real merely a flaring of boyhood wishes.

"My marriage to you has been comfortable these past years Tyrion. I am not courted, I am not bothered, I am wed and therefore less threatening. If we end… I will have to remarry. I will not be allowed to sit atop the throne for much longer if I am unwed." She sighed and brushed away a stray hair.

"Well as much as I'm glad I'm a comfort to my lady I do not think it healthy… you'd be expected to bear children Sansa, and I don't think the northerners would like to bend the knee to the imp's offspring" These were things he knew to be true as much as they pained him. "And you do not love me child" she balked at this, the laughter shooting out of her mouth like a wolf playfully snapping at heels.

"What has love got to do with it?" she asked him steepling her fingers and gazing into the distance.

"Be careful my Grace you are starting to sound like Lady Christina of the Turn. And do you know what happened to her?"

"No my Lord I do not." She giggled slightly, the laughter lit her face and made Tyrion feel a little warmer.

"She died alone and was eaten by feral cats."

"What nonsense." Sansa laughed again and reached for a sip of her warm mull "who will I marry?" she asked aloud, Tyrion was not sure he was the one she truly was asking but he offered her council all the same.

"The Hound? He is loyal, fierce, noble born, he loves you and is a seasoned warrior." He suggested plainly, her face contorted almost instantly. But Tyrion was a master of barter if nothing else, always start with a terrible offer.

"He's an unbalanced old man, who believes I am touched by a fire god and who I am sure shouts at the moon." It was Tyrion's turn to laugh.

"Alright, what of my brother ser Jaime? He's handsome, well-bred and would be loyal to you." Sansa's face contorted again.

"He's a Lannister, no disrespect my lord, he's the king slayer and he… well he and Cersei." She stopped and bit her lower lip.

"Yes… all that and he's now in love with a mountain of a maiden who completely ignores his advances. Your Grace is quite right, he's a terrible choice… and we come back to me." He laughed a little and she straightened.

"My Lord Tyrion you have offered me a man with no face, a man with no hand and a man…" she looked him up and down a little "With no scruples. Next you'll offer Ser Davos, a man with no fingers."

Tyrion couldn't help the grin that played across his features, his young wife and now queen had blossomed in body _and_ in spirit. He had feared for a time that she wouldn't be able to hold her own with her banner-men, he realised now he was sorely mistaken, she had a knack for disarming people with her fair face before spearing them with her sharp mind.

"Also" she continued with one eyebrow raised "would it be too much to ask for a man who wasn't old enough to be my father. Someone who I can grow old with rather than watch die? I also see now that I am a hypocrite"

"why my Grace?" Tyrion smiled patiently.

"I told Arya she was to marry, I foisted the burden upon her and told her to pick an old lord and get a baby put inside her… as if it were nothing. And now I see I do not want nothing."

"You say you don't want love, but deep down in that guarded heart my darling Sansa you still pine for a timeless romance like those in the songs you once sang and the stories you once read." He patted her hand sadly, this girl had been given nothing of the love she'd been promised as a child. She was merely used by men with more swords than she, it was no wonder she didn't believe in it.

"I want what is good for the North." She sighed.

"What is good for the Queen is good for the North." He retorted quickly.

"You have those wrong my lord."

"nonsense, a happy ruler begets happy citizens. It is the trickledown effect."

"Gold trickles down my Lord Tyrion, love does not." She made to continue but he stopped her.

"If I may be so bold your Grace… Sansa. You are wrong. Take your lady mother and father for example, when they ruled with love between them they ruled at their best. And look at my Sister and Robert, they had no love and neither had their subjects… Love my lady has much to do with it." The mother of Dragons had sent him with the express request that he help Sansa in any way possible, Daenerys was a readymade queen, she had advisors and trusted confidents and a dedicated army. Lady Sansa had none of those things and was still succeeding but with a well formed council around her she could be so much more, with a husband by her side and wise advisors she could stabilize the North, bolster the Walls, build a real northern city… make real change rather than tread water. And if there was one thing his Queen and the breaker of chains loved more than anything, it was change. Yes, he was there to help mould the young Sansa Stark into the queen the North needed. The spider would hold down the south while he did his final husbandly duty to his lady wife.

"You need someone you can trust?" He asked one eyebrow quirked, Sansa nodded, he lowered his voice "You need someone who has been by your side?" she nodded again but a small scowl played on her features "someone you know?" she stopped him now.

"Please do not say Jon. No matter his birth line he is my Brother!" she snapped but quietly.

"My lady you wound me, I am not that kind of Lannister." Her scowl broke and she showered him with a bright smile and a small chuckle.

"then who?" she prodded.

"When you came to my family I remember you were fond of songs about Knights and Ladies falling in love. You need a noble lad" he was almost whispering now "A man who's grown with you, who'd die for you… like in your ballads." He had thought about this ever since his queen had proposed the repeal of war weddings. Who was fit to marry the Queen in the North? Who was available? Who would she take? He tried not to oversell it, to nudge her towards the conclusion. Sansa had been manipulated by the best and was now wise to it.

"My Lord just come out with it." Sansa was losing patience, Tyrion swiftly shifted his eyes from the Northern queen to the Knight who had been his squire, as if he hadn't meant to.

"Podrick?" she asked with a whisper, he witnessed as a blush crept up her neck and he smiled to himself. Perhaps this wouldn't be as one sided as he thought. "I cannot take the Payne name… his … my father." She explained in a rather abrupt whisper. 'Ah She'd thought about it already', he was more than pleased with himself, there was no seed for him to plant after all only a sapling to tend.

"You my Grace are a queen of the house Stark. Your betrothed will not brand you nor your offspring with his name if you do not wish it. You even have the power to change his name if you see fit. Think like a queen my lady." He smiled encouragingly but she continued to worry her lip.

" … but it is cruel to take away a man's name" .

"My lady It is common place for women across the realm!" Tyrion exclaimed, almost exasperated

"But we are conditioned to expect it. They are not."

"Fine then… let us find out his feelings." Tyrion was impatient now that he knew His lady the Queen was not opposed to the idea. "Podrick my lad come here" he yelled down the hall towards the unmoving sentry who'd once been his lad. The man marched soundly up the length of the hall at his command

"My lord?" he stood to attention, Sansa looked furious and had pinched the impious Lord Tyrion.

"Let me pose a hypothetical to you Pod." Podrick's face slumped beneath his helmet, he'd had 'hypotheticals' from his master before and the answer he gave was never correct… his master spoke in riddles. "If you had a lady love, can you imagine being in love Pod?" Tyrion asked with a smirk.

"I can my lord" Podrick responded with only the tiniest of shakes in his voice.

"Would you be willing to give up everything for her Podrick? Your titles, your deeds? For love?" Even Tyrion held his breath a little, he hadn't known the boy since he was a lad… what if age had changed him?

"For Love? aye my lord." Tyrion noted that the boy was beet red beneath his helmet.

"Thank you Ser Podrick" Sansa said quickly, trying to hide her own blush "that will be all" with a nod the knight marched back down to his spot at the far end of the hall and hopefully out of earshot.

"see." The Queen of the south's puckish hand grinned at the queen in the North who shifted uncomfortably.

"You are a horrible little man My Lord" she said only half meaning it, picked up the quill and signed the document ending their marriage. Tyrion grinned, even though it hurt but just a little.


	5. Chapter 5

Sansa

Sansa Stark had called a halt to her meeting with Lord Tyrion after signing the scroll annulling their nuptials. She had to check on Arya before meeting with some local traders who wanted a dedicated watch on the Kings Road.

Her sister had looked tiny in her large bed, the wolf Nymeria lay across Arya's small frame, heating her mistress. The two had been inseparable since the alpha came storming back into Winterfell the day after Arya's return, nobody killed a Direwolf now that Sansa Stark sat on the throne, the beasts fell under the queen's protection and could only be killed in self-defence. Nymeria stalked through the large keep until she came to the main courtyard where she crouched her back legs, tilted her head and howled… and howled. Wolves across the land joined her plea and Arya had responded, she had pelted through the great keep knocking people over as she went, Rickon and Shaggydog were close behind her, gleefully howling a response 'she's back!'. Sansa had wept as she watched her sister and the beast roll in the mud, Nymeria licked Arya's face in between howls and Arya for her part had howled back.

The Wolf girl… the mother of wolves? Sansa thought as she looked at her little sister and the alpha in the large bed, both in deep sleep.

"Arya?" she asked softly.

"Mmm?" came a response from somewhere under wolf and blanket.

"How are you feeling?"

"Bloody… awful" she responded through a hoarse coughing fit, the door swung open and the massive frame of Maester Tarly entered.

"your Grace, you shouldn't be in here it may be catching, my Grace." He finished nervously.

"I'll be fine, unlike this little Braavosi I haven't lost my Northern constitution." Sansa laughed and left the Maester to argue with Arya who was now claiming to be fine and not in need of 'any more stinking balmy rub'.

After meeting with the traders and offering to dedicate a part of the now growing Crows to protecting the main trade routes, Sansa had supped with Tyrion and his party of banner-men before heading to bathe and then hopefully sleep. As she sat in the tin basin filled with sweet perfumed water she pondered on Tyrion's words "a noble lad", Agatha her handmaid was scrubbing her back and nattering on, the way she did, about the goings on 'downstairs' in the castle. Sansa usually enjoyed these chats, they gave her perspective and on occasion a little entertainment. 

"Agatha…" the girl didn't hear her and continued to prattle.

"Agatha!" her tone was sharper now and the girl stopped "I'm clean enough, help me out." She had softened her tone again and the girl acquiesced in silence, wrapping her in warm dry linens and patting her hair down gently "Would you like it braided milady?" Agatha asked softly. 

"yes please Agatha." Sansa responded as she sat in front of the small and rare glass mirror and frowned

Podrick, Pod… she sighed and Agatha looked at her but sensed that her mistress was puzzling out a problem and so remained quiet. Sansa was not averse to Podrick Payne, she'd twice in the past even been a little unbridled with him. Once during the long night, they'd been at Castle Black and she'd had no idea if they'd survive or not and she was so cold and she'd well… she'd clung to him. There had been no preamble, he'd been standing by her side as he always did, he'd asked her If she were comfortable enough and the next thing she knew her arms were flung round his shoulders her face was buried in his neck, tears streaming from her eyes and she'd sobbed and he'd wrapped her up in his strong arms and his thick cloak… he'd held her for a long time. Too long. And then there had been the sacking of Kings Landing… that had been slightly… Sansa furrowed her brow further as she tried to categorize her feelings on that very 'emotional day' Agatha patted her shoulder. "All done your Grace, will that be all?"

"Thank you Agatha." She nodded and the girl left, Sansa caught a glimpse of Podrick as the door swung shut. He was always there when she fell asleep and always there when she woke. When did he sleep? Sansa blushed slightly as her mind wandered to what Podrick might look like when he sleeps. That time in Kings Landing, she'd been in the Red Keep and she and Daenerys stood encircled by wolves and knights, Podrick among them. The last of the Lannister's men and gold cloaks were making an attempt to retake the city. They were awaiting word from Jon. They wanted to keep the city intact and so Dragons were the last resort, it was men who stormed Kings Landing, men who took it piece by piece and it was men who held it. Jon had entered the room a triumphant smile on his face 'it's done.' He'd said simply. It was _so_ Jon. The room relaxed, the queens had embraced briefly before everyone scattered to the task of running a realm. Sansa who had remained as still as a statue in the centre of the room eventually fell to her knees and clutched her chest. It was over, it was finally over and she'd lost almost everyone. "Give her the room." Jon said quietly and the remaining soldiers obliged. All except Pod who stood in the corner, unobtrusively. He would not be moved if the gods themselves told him to, he was sworn to protect her and he was apparently sticking with that. She looked up, he was the only one there and he looked exhausted. His back hunched over like he hadn't relaxed his spine in years "It's done Pod." She said breathily and reached for him to help her to her feet, tears still rolling down her porcelain face. when he reached her he pulled her up with one arm his other holding his helmet. "It's over" she almost asked.

"It's over my Grace" he'd responded softly; she didn't let go of his hand instead she had launched forward, flush from success and exuberant from relief, her lips met his and he'd wrapped his arm tightly around her waist, his helmet still in his hand his other squashed in hers between his breastplate and her stomach. The kiss was clumsy and full of the exhilaration of knowing they wouldn't die that day and perhaps not the next. And then Podrick had dropped his helmet and the spell was broken, he stepped back all a fluster and full of apologies. She had looked around in a daze before saying something about finding Jon, they mutually and silently agreed never to talk of it again but he in all honesty had been the only man she'd kissed and hadn't really regretted it.

She sat on her bed and wondered, he was just outside her door, she could call him in. and what? Ask him for his hand? "Gah!" she threw the slipper she'd been toying with across the room as she let out the frustrated bark, knocking over the mirror she had just been gazing into.

"My Grace!" Podrick burst through at the commotion and stopped when he saw Sansa his Queen wrapped only in linens, her wet hair in a simple braid. All of her 'particulars' were covered but it was still improper. Podrick averted his gaze and scanned the room his sword drawn.

"Podrick, it's fine I knocked my mirror over when I was reaching for something" she lied. He moved to retrieve it "I'll get it Ser Podrick, it's my mess."

"If it's broken you might cut yourself." He said in an even tone careful not to look at her.

He retrieved the mirror and couldn't help but smile up at her "it's intact my Grace" he said before quickly looking away again.

"Thank you ser Podrick" her tone was so gentle when she'd said it he couldn't help but look at her again and then back at his hand as he placed the unbroken mirror glass carefully and deliberately back onto the small dresser. The Queen's little personal items lay around and she watched as he quickly glanced them over, he hadn't been in her rooms there had been no call, she took this moment of distraction to step behind the screen and pull her night dress and house cloak on. When he looked back to her he was shocked that she was gone but then saw her fingers over the oak screen.

"Are you quite sure everything is alright my Grace?" he kept his hand on his sword she stepped back out covered from neck to toe.

"I'm in a predicament Podrick." She stated plainly. Perhaps a straight on approach would be the best option

"If there is but anything I could do your Grace I would?" he was prepared to lay his sword down at her feet again as If to reinforce his pledge.

"I need to marry."

"You are already married"

"That bond has been nullified" she explained, she hoped this would spur him into action but knew he was too much the honourable gentleman. "I have no parents to find me a suitor, no mother to tell me what to do, no father to make sure my husband is a good and decent match. I am not sure how to approach this Pod"

"Are you asking me to help you pick a suitor my Grace?" Podrick's voice sounded slightly strained.

"No Ser, not unless you think…" She didn't know what she was saying, a sudden self-doubt had swept the legs from under her and she almost felt like she couldn't breathe. The soft fur lined cloak she wore in her chambers every night abruptly felt constricting and she struggled to untie it, it fell to her feet and she inhaled sharply.

"My lady are you unwell? Should I call Maester Sam?" Pod flustered at the sight of his Queen in distress.

She clutched her hands together and tried to regain some composure "I am sorry Ser Podrick, I am tired and I tied my cloak too tight in a haste to dress." She lied, but at least her voice wasn't shaking anymore.

"My Grace…" he bowed but didn't move.

"Podrick could you take off your helmet please." Sansa said feigning calm 'think like a queen' she told herself as she imagined what Margaery would do in this situation. The knight obliged removing the iron mask she'd come to associate so closely with his face, his dark hair was flattened by the helmet and damp with sweat. His eyes remained on the rush covered stone bellow his feet. Sansa stepped towards him and placed a hand in his hair ruffling it gently so it no longer stuck flat to his pate, he glanced up at her in shock and seemed surprised to see her face looking back at him, evaluating him.

She prodded her lower lip as she scanned his eyes for any sort of attraction, anything beyond fear of his Queen. He was handsome in a boyish way, but his body was that of a man's, he was taller than Sansa and broader by double. But it was his strong chin she liked best and his eyes… his sweet eyes that crinkled when he smiled, she continued to stare but she didn't know what to do… he just looked petrified.

"Podrick… I want to ask you something but I need you to swear what we speak of will never go beyond these walls." She tried to sound authoritative.

"of course your Grace." He said solemnly staring at his feet again.

'What would Margaery do?' she asked herself again and again. She took a steadying breath, stepped forward so that she was only one more step from being toe to toe with him. She raised her arm, placed her finger under his chin and nudged his head up forcing him to look her in the eye.

"do you think I'm pretty?" she had tried to sound sultry, she feared she sounded too weak, too much like a girl.

"My Grace you are the fairest snow queen the land has ever see…" he started quoting the bards his voice trembling as though she'd shouted at him and she sighed in frustration.

"Podrick, I am not asking you for some singer's interpretation of my 'beauty' I want to know what _you_ think of _me_ " she pointed between the two, tapping his breast plate gently.

"I… My Grace." He squirmed uncomfortably and she sighed again only this time she was defeated, her arms dropped to her sides, she made to turn away. To pick up her cloak and hide beneath it perhaps.

"My Grace." His voice was calmer now and she felt his strong fingers grasp her arm gently.

She turned back to him slowly, wishing the tears that were welling in her eyes away, why was she so _weak_? He was looking at her seriously, his brow furrowed in determination. They stood like that, for what felt like an eternity until the tears that had welled finally spilled and he moved, his armour clanked as he lifted his free hand to wipe the drop away grazing her cheek with his thumb. She turned her cheek into his palm, like Lady had once done, so that he was now cupping her face.

"Podrick, if you have any affection for me as a Lord has for a Lady…" she paused, she hadn't realised until now how utterly unprepared for this she was. Her brothers were taught to woo by armourers and knights, to snare a mate with charm and wiles. She had been taught nothing… but how to sew! She cursed the dead Septa… how would a delicate cross stitch help her now?

"If you want me… what I'm trying to say my Lord is…" she stumbled over her words and she blushed but she needn't have worried. Realisation had finally dawned on Pod's boyish features

"My Lady… My Grace… might I kiss you?" he had to ask, on the off chance this was all a misunderstanding, he had to ask and she understood that.

"as long as you don't drop your helmet this time" she laughed breathily but it soon turned to a gasp when her knight placed his helmet gently on her bed and lowered his head to hers. Both his hands now free he rested them on her shoulders and moved them slowly down her arms to find her hands which he gently clasped in his. He breathed heavily and steadily, each second felt deliberate as if every inch of her needed memorising and he may be tested on it later. Her skin prickled and her breath caught again, only this time she wasn't panicking. Suddenly a memory popped in her head, Lady Margaery… she told her a rumour about Pod, all the girls had giggled... and as quickly as the memory had popped in her head it had flown as it was replaced with the feel of a man's lips on her cheek his stubble tickling her jaw, and then he kissed the corner of her mouth ever so lightly. She murmured, or did she moan? She couldn't tell. And then his mouth was flush on hers, there was none of the clumsiness of Kings Landing. None of the haste. This kiss seemed to slow down time itself. His hands pulled hers to his shoulders where he left them, his own hands sought to memorise more of Sansa, they found her hips. He tugged her gently forward so her body was flush against his. Her arms wrapped around his neck, Sansa hadn't kissed like this before, the feelings in her stomach were completely alien, his mouth opened slightly and she took the opportunity to nibble his lip, something she'd seen wenches at feasts do. He moaned.

"My Lady… I mean My Grace." He said against her lips, not pulling away but halting nonetheless

"Sansa" she panted resting her forehead against his once again, his fists were balled in her nightdress and he breathed heavily his eyes closed.

"my Queen" he couldn't stop the inbuilt etiquette no matter how hard he tried "are we betrothed?" he wasn't sure how one went about asking for the hand of a queen. He needn't ask his own fathers permission; he'd been disowned from the house Payne when he took up the cause of the North.

"Do you want to be?" she asked gently

"I am at your command my Grace." His fists balled tighter in her soft night dress.

"But my Lord, if I was Just Sansa Stark and if we were in Kings Landing and my father had asked… would you want me? If I wasn't your queen and you didn't obey my every whim." She smiled at him a little "Could you love me?" her voice quivered, she was scared. She'd barely mended her heart and the idea it could be smashed again by another man sworn to protect her was terrifying.

"My Grace, My Lady… any hesitation on my part is not due to lack of affection it's merely a lack of worth." It had clearly dawned on Pod why his lady love was so vexed, she worried he would not love her. "I have loved you, do love you and will love you my Grace, I… I thought you knew…" he seemed shocked that she hadn't.

"How?" she smiled as she gently petted his rounded cheeks his coarse stubble tickled her finger tips enjoying just conversing with him, suddenly at ease now she knew he was hers.

"Lord Jon has passed comment and my Lord Tyrion always knew, he would jest about it, he called me your shadow and he'd say things like 'Pod stop mooning over my Lady wife, you're not rich enough nor pretty enough for her'" he chuckled a little at the memory and his own impression leaning into her caress

"He was wrong." She reached up for another kiss but stopped when a thought struck her "Would you take the title King of the North? Our children with my name. A stark must always sit in Winterfell." she spoke quickly.

"As I told my former master, Aye, Aye to it all. If you want, I will Be Podrick Stark if you wish it. The Payne's have no love for me, the Starks have been my family and my cause these past years. I will have No name if it may make her Grace happy" he placed a sweet kiss on her mouth.

"You will be loyal and true." It was a statement; Sansa knew it to be right in her heart, an organ which up until now she had not particularly trusted of late. Podrick was a good man, he was an honourable man… he was the type of man her father would have liked, because he was just like him. "You're going to be a king Pod" she couldn't help the grin that spread across her face as she watched her future love piece together everything that had just passed, a strange smile playing on his face. "does that please you my Grace?" she asked nudging his cheek with her nose.

"I'm going to be married to you… that pleases me Your Grace."


	6. Chapter 6

Arya

When Arya awoke she felt better than she had in days, the fever had lifted and she finally found herself able to breathe through her nose. She sensed a weight on top of her and knew it to be Nymeria but she felt an unfamiliar weight to her left something which shouldn't have been there. She cracked one eye and almost leapt when she saw her sister grinning intently at her, her face very close.

"I am getting married!" Sansa squealed, it was now Nymeria's turn to jump.

"You're already married, you mental woman… It's me who's to get married the gods forbid." Arya groaned as she pushed the bristling Wolf off her and made to sit.

"My marriage to Tyrion was dissolved by a new bill passed by the Southern queen… so I had to find someone else." Sansa was now on her knees, surprisingly still in her night gown and house cloak.

"You work fast, who is it then?" Arya yawned.

"Podrick." Sansa sighed then giggled. she couldn't help but laugh… only it wasn't so laughable after all. He was exactly the type of person Arya had always imagined her sister ending up with, a brave knight with handsome features and a kind heart. It all made sense from the perspective of eight years ago.

"Congratulations my sister." Arya said with none of the sandy bite her voice usually carried.

"I want you to be by my side" Sansa held her little sister's hand "in a dress" she concluded quickly and Arya did her best to try and suppress the groan escaping her mouth.

"Does this mean I don't have to marry?" Arya gasped excitedly, knowing the answer full-well but still wanting to make her protest noted.

"You know you do, and I will find this smith. I've sent ravens to friends in Kings Landing, they are making enquiries." she smiled smugly.

Arya had thought a lot about her sister's words of late, and she knew she needed to help her. She needed to unburden Sansa Stark in any way she could, simply because she was now the head of their family. She had been no real help to her during the war but she could help now. Arya let a grin crack her usually sullen face "Did you kiss him?" she asked with a girlish giggle neither of them had been prepared for, even Nymeria looked momentarily stunned at her mistress.

"In my room last night, I was in my night dress." Sansa gasped and covered her mouth, as if this had been the most scandalous thing to ever happen in Winterfell. Arya grinned, it wasn't so hard to indulge this side of herself, she'd always been so reticent to fill the 'little girl' role so many had forced on her but she hadn't seen Sansa so happy as she was now, clutching her hand gushing about a boy she'd kissed, Arya knelt too so they were facing each other both giggling excitedly. Arya would play this part for her Sister, the sister who'd never given up hope she'd return, the big sister who'd never stopped loving her even though she'd become so very unlovable.

"Did you… lay with him?" Arya wasn't sure how you best asked a queen if she'd been bedded, even if she was your sister.

"No." Sansa shook her head a little wearily "it wasn't for lack of trying."

"typical man." Arya shot back, like she'd seen the Braavosi wenches do on the shore when they talked about the trivialities of womanhood.

"He insisted on finishing his guard duty, I wanted to keep kissing!" Sansa giggled again, the door had opened unbeknownst to the two and Samwell Tarly now stood red faced his Maester chain clinking loudly as though to alert the pair

"My Grace… Graces!" he sputtered as he turned on the spot nervously, Sansa and Arya laughed harder as the odd Maester blushed.

"Princess Arya needs bed rest my Grace." He pleaded.

"I'm fine Maester Sam, look!" she leapt to her feet and jumped on the bed as If to demonstrate, her wolf and her sister joined her. She felt like they were children again, teasing old Maester Luwin as he chased them playfully around their nursery as their Septa shouting at them half-heartedly to behave like ladies. Even Sam cracked a smile at the site of his Queen and Princess bouncing on a bed with a deadly wolf.

"What are you two doing?" Jon had entered now, his voice booming a look of pure shock on his usually sullen face.

"Sorry Jon." Arya said, pouting like she'd done when she was nine. Sansa on the other hand pulled herself up to her full height.

"Your Queen is standing on her sisters bed." She said haughtily and added a little bounce as if to punctuate her point.

"My Queen is late to break her fast with Lord Tyrion." He said with an eyebrow raised.

"A queen is never late Jon, everyone else is early." Sansa rebutted as she stepped from the bed and sashayed out of the room.

"What is going on with her?" Jon laughed as he stepped forward and lifted Arya. She may be Seven and ten but she had barely grown to his shoulder and he missed carrying her around.

"She's getting married." Arya liked knowing what others did not, it gave her a thrill to see Jon and Sam's shocked expression.

"She's already…"

"Apparently not."

Arya changed into her cleanest breeches and shirt, she combed her hair and tied it back in a messy braid and headed to the Winter Hall to join the house in breaking fast. When she arrived she found her sister, the imp and Jon all deep in conversation. Sansa was beaming and Podrick was nowhere to be seen. She sat and noted the Imp was looking exceedingly pleased.

"Will your betrothed not be joining us?" Arya asked looking around the hall.

"Young Podrick came to see me this morning and I sent him to be measured for new attire. New armour too… he'll be a king soon enough." Tyrion said as he finished off a piece of burnt bacon. The Northerners cleverly used the ice around them to preserve meats well into the winter. A frozen ham could last years before turning, even if it didn't taste as good as fresh.

"Did he ask for your blessing?" Jon asked curiously.

"He asked me to stand with him, in lieu of his family… I of course agreed. He saved my life on more than one occasion and protected those I care for, I owe him a great debt and a Lannister always pays his debts. Which is why" he cleared his throat a little, perhaps he was choking up, the idea made Arya frown "I have decided to give Podrick a small holding, his own source of income. If I'd had a son it's what he would have got… and his own family are useless"

"You might still sire children..." Sansa made to interrupt

"If I do I'll give him one of my other holdings, I am not going without. Jaime has shed himself of all worldly possessions and spends his days playing at sword fighting with a woman twice his height, perhaps he means to feel like me" he added the amusing aside to the delight of the queen "… I am the last Lannister my dear and I am the hand of the Dragon queen… It is quite likely that I am the richest man alive." He reached for more bacon.

"buy your own bacon then." Arya said under her breath so that only Jon could hear her, as she watched the ever decreasing mound of crisped ham. Jon sniggered but Sansa and the Imp either didn't hear or were choosing to ignore her.

"Thank you my Lord." Sansa said, fresh tears welling in her eyes "It will mean a lot to both of us that you will be there." She cleared her throat and looked for a distraction finding it in the frowning face of Arya. "But I am not the only one to be wed, if you could stay long enough for us to find Princess Arya's lost love."

"Shut up Sansa!" Arya shouted, it seemed the miscategorising of Gendry into a "love" had touched a nerve which resulted in her childish outburst. She breathed and found her calm, none of her table mates seemed vexed they all just seemed amused at her mini tantrum. "Besides" she added with a small soft smirk "You will never find him." 'But that'll just mean Sansa gets to pick'… she groaned inwardly with agitation.

"find whom?" Tyrion asked, laughter lighting his eyes.

"Her Bastard Smith." Sansa stated plainly.

"A bastard smith?" The imp looked alert like a wolf that has just caught scent, Arya shifted uncomfortably… suddenly it felt like the world was going to collapse about her with that look in his eye.

"yes"

"A Bastard Smith from Kings Landing?" Sansa nodded "with raven hair and a bull's helm?" The imp grinned wider now as he watched Arya's face closely, he caught her in a slight widening of the eyes. "Now what was his name?" he pondered dramatically as he tapped his chin "Gore… no… Renwick… no" he snapped his fingers "Ah…Gendry." Arya gasped and Sansa clapped her hands

"That is the very one my Lord" Sansa declared looking smugly at her younger sister who now blushed furiously, a rarer sight than the Cromwell Comet.

"How?" Arya asked through gritted teeth.

"He drinks and he knows things" Jon said with a half-smile.

Tyrion leaned back in his chair at the high table and thought for a second, he swirled his goblet as he looked up at the three Starks who stared at him, a younger Arya would have hurried him. The imp chuckled then looked directly at her "I know where the bastard is because my sister tried to have him killed"

"Who didn't your sister try to have killed?" Arya responded, desperate to hide her current tumult of emotions (mainly shock with a close second being irritation) behind a cloak of indifference. The Imp seemed to like this, and rewarded her with a twisted grin.

"If you will all cast your minds back I'm sure you'll remember my dear departed sister called for the slaughter of every Baratheon bastard in Kings Landing what you don't know is that one got away… a Smith named Gendry with a bull helmet" he watched their faces as surprise and realisation dawned. "If there's one thing a Baratheon loves… it's a Stark" the imp added this as if for himself.

"He is Robert Baratheon's son? Robert Baratheon's son will marry Ned Stark's daughter" Sansa said thoughtfully looking closely at her little sister.

"And the queen of the south would be happy with that would she? A Baratheon legitimized and given a place of power in the North?" Arya rebutted, suddenly the idea of marriage and Gendry seemed very real.

"What more shows strength than placing your rival in a position of power? The queen of the South has Dragons my princess there will be no further rebellions from the North. Besides My queen has a poetic soul young princess, she will see, as I do, that a Baratheon and a Stark warding the North as a unit will bring some form of closure to the whole business. The rebellion, the night wars, the taking of Kings Landing… this opportunity offers a broken world a very happy ending."

"I am not some princess in a story!" Arya barked angrily.

"But you are." Tyrion laughed "and my what a princess you make…The wolf girl of Winterfell and her Bastard Baratheon."

"He's probably already married!" Arya was grasping at straws.

"He is not."

"How do you know imp?"

"Well since you asked so nicely… it is in the best interest of the crown to keep a close eye on those who might at some point think that they deserve that crown. Robert had many bastards and I know where all of them are, at least I think I do. Robert did like to put it about." He grinned puckishly and Sansa chuckled a little in response, Arya remained stone faced.

"He's probably forgotten me." Arya said under her breath

"Where is he my Lord?" Sansa asked, ignoring her sister's sullen expression

"I'm surprised you didn't meet when you travelled North My Grace" he nodded to Arya and took a sip of his wine "Gendry is at the twins, he is a knight and helps in the armoury… something just came to me, I received a raven a few years back from Edmure, said there was a boy in his employ who'd fought for the Brothers without banners who wanted to help in the search for princess Arya… it seems the Bastard Smith did not forget his little friend… tell me princess how did Ned Starks Youngest daughter end up in the company of Robert Baratheon's Son?" Arya could tell he wanted her to like him, the way her sister liked him. But she had none of the experience with him that her sister did. She had none of the warm feelings the other Stark children seemed to have for the imp.

"When I escaped Kings Landing with the Night's Watch I was dressed as a little boy…" She didn't get to finish because Tyrion had thumped the table triumphantly

"That's how you did it then? I always wondered… I thought you'd stayed in the city" He smiled to himself and nodded for her to continue.

"I did, for a while. I stayed in Flea Bottom until they killed father." Arya's voice seemed smaller.

"were you there Arya?" Sansa suddenly asked.

"yes." She replied "I saw you and the Lannisters and that's where Yoren, a crow and a friend of father, he covered my eyes and cut my hair and called me boy." She spoke softly, calmly but her eyes focused just behind the heads of her tablemates.

"I knew Yoren…" Jon added "he's dead?"

She nodded.

"And Yoren's… party, is that's where you met the smith?" Tyrion cajoled sweetly. He made it so easy to talk, that was his magic.

"yes and he looked after me, helped me at Harrenhal."

"You were at Harrenhal? When?" the Imp seemed happier than she would have imagined at the grand story of her escape from his family.

"I was there when the Lannister's lost it to the North, and I served as Roose Bolton's cup bearer" she said suddenly smug, if nothing else the imp was exactly the perfect person to appreciate the audacity of this act. This appeared to surprise everyone at the table, she hadn't told her siblings the particulars of her odyssey, only the deaths.

"You were at Harrenhal when my father was there? You served Lord Bolton his wine and nobody knew? Nobody knew who you were?" The Imp laughed and clapped his hands vigorously "The whole world was searching for you and you hid in plain sight?" she nodded "I can see why the many faced god called to you." He laughed and clapped his hands again but noted her sudden stony demeanour, she hadn't told them about the faces.

"The many face who?" Sansa asked curiously.

"It's the god of the assassins who trained me." She made the word 'assassin' clear and directed it at the imp, best he knows she could sneak into his house and poison his entire larder without him knowing.

"They trained you? How wonderful, I've always been fascinated with their gifts." Tyrion responded only a little cryptically.

"Gifts! That reminds me… Arya, entertain lord Tyrion with one of your stories. The stewards will have to dole out some gifts to the locals to bless my wedding… I think we have a surplus of snow stored fish don't we Jon? Is that mean?" She pulled Jon by the elbow, "Come Hand of the queen, you're in charge of the purse which means you are in charge of my wedding." Jon groaned with sudden realisation as he stood, Sansa scurried off to find Jemmy the head steward, Jon following behind with tense shoulders.

"Is it true you can wear the faces of the dead?" the imp asked with one eyebrow raised now they were alone, they were doing this then.

"Not anymore."

"So you did?" he probed further, she eyed him. They hadn't sworn her to secrecy, they hadn't had to.

"no." she lied easily.

"But you could?"

"perhaps." She already knew he knew the truth; Jon had told her he'd been the one to lead him to her. He'd been the one contacted by the many faced for a meeting.

"Did they tell you to come get me?" she asked, she'd been dying to know.

"You don't like me do you?" he countered with his own question.

"It's not a matter of like my lord, it's a matter of trust. I have no cause to place mine in you."

"This is true, perhaps I can give you cause." He stroked his chin and thought for a second "I have known your whereabouts for these past three years." Her expression remained changeless "I contacted the house of black and white through a bird on Braavos, you were back in your cockle-sellers guise on the job no doubt." Her eyebrows shot up "The old man said you were safe and unless I could offer you the same you would stay where you were. He was right, you would not have been safe here"

"I could have helped."

"My Grace we all serve in our own way, I barely swung a sword in the end… but I helped. You helped by staying alive… and if your brother Bran is correct, perhaps in other ways too. Seeing through the eyes of a wolf must be marvellous" He whispered the last, he seemed to have the confidence of all the Starks then. "I kept your whereabouts a secret and told no one because I knew if you wanted to be found you would, I knew you were safe and when the war was won and your sister seated I sent another bird to your masters with many faces and they said 'Arya Stark is ready to come home' so I came and got you, with your brother because I knew you'd need a Stark." He concluded with palms raised in a trusting gesture.

"Thank you." Was all she said before returning her eyes to her plate.

"I had very little cause to speak to your father, but when I did I asked him about Lyanna Stark. I wanted to know what sort of woman had trumped my sister, the fairest in the land, from beyond the grave." He patted her hand to get her attention "Do you know what he told me?"

"That she was like me?" Arya knew the answer; her father had told her before. She was sure it was in a bid to make her feel less bad about her horsey face.

"Yes, and I looked at little you, a scrap of a girl, head strong and talented… and I understood. You're more than Cersei could ever be." Arya scrunched her brow in disbelief at this statement.

"My Lord imp… Please do not think you can win me over with flattery. I am not a great beauty; of this I am aware. That's Sansa and that is perfectly fine with me. I am Arya horse face; I am 'plain' as the Septa put it I am…"

"Effortless beauty… My Grace you are life itself personified, whomever told you that you had a horse's face was an ass." A voice from behind him made him stop

"That would be The Queen in the North" Sansa had re-entered unnoticed. "And he's right I was an ass" she added to Arya who was still looking at the imp in utter disbelief.

Tyrion continued with a small apologetic smile to Sansa "All I am attempting to say, to make you see little Stark is that you are not the ugly duckling you've been led to believe you are. And if perhaps this is what is causing you anxiety with your nuptials… all I mean to say your Grace, is that you needn't worry."

"I'm not worried, I'm fine" she almost screeched, her vocal chords betrayed her. Everything she had learned in the house of black and white seemed to be crumbling away, the tough assassins shell she'd so carefully cultivated seemed to be almost entirely corroded by the comfort of Winterfell. 'What have I become?' Arya wondered as she raised a finger to prod at her pleasantly blushed cheek "Ugh." She exclaimed in disgust "I'm going to swing a bloody sword at something".

"She's so like Jon." She heard the imp exclaim with a smile no doubt, as she stomped from the hall.


	7. Chapter 7

Sansa

She had worried for almost a whole day that Podrick had run away, the day after their night of kissing she'd sought him out but he'd been nowhere. Lord Tyrion had seen him, sent him to a tailor and then he'd vanished. She later found out that Tyrion hadn't just prepared his clothes but had also sent him to an intensive course of protocol with a Maester, a Southern knight and two Stewards. She had smiled when he'd wandered into her solar, he looked exhausted and he'd explained his whereabouts as he sunk uncomfortably into one of her small chairs. He had still been wearing his knights garb.

"You're not my knight anymore." She'd reminded him.

"It was my last day my Grace, I had to show I was taking it seriously." His face had looked so serious as he'd said it and that had made her smile. She'd stood, walked towards him and placed a chaste kiss on his head. "You should go to sleep, there's a lot to be done." She'd whispered before placing a further kiss on his cheek, she had wanted more but he looked so tired and he'd have sat there all night if she'd asked… but she would do this right. This one relationship she would do the way her mother would have wanted "and there'll be no more unchaperoned visits until the wedding." She added as she made to leave, she noted with a small laugh that this almost joking declaration had brought a smile to her noble Pod's face, of course he'd like that.

The wedding took less than two months to organise, while still technically her first wedding it looked to many others as her second, Sansa was wary of rubbing her second union in the faces of the older lords who adhered so strictly to the ways of the old gods, a man could marry as many times as he liked a woman however was not permitted that luxury, usually. She was also keen to avoid frivolous spending in the dead of winter but knew how uplifting a celebration could be to a cold nation and so she had sent out ravens to only her most loyal banner-men and the houses of her family informing them of the union and the feast that would follow, she had new furs sent to the night's watch, a frozen ham each to the hamlets and villages, feasting and celebration had been planned in Winterfell on the day of the union. Sansa had been shocked at how quickly the time had crept up on her, when she found herself only one moon away from her 'big day' as the maids now called it, she wondered if embroidering her own dress had been the best idea.

"Agatha." She called to the girl who was currently serving her ham and milk to break her fast.

"Yes my Grace?" the girl asked, dropping a characteristically clumsy curtsey.

"Your needle work is wonderful, could you help me?" the girl blushed profusely and nodded, before dropping to her knees picking up a needle from the Queen's own basket and threading it. "Just as I've done, repeated down the seam, You see?" she indicated the part she'd already done. She was sewing her indoor dress; the dress she'd wear at the feast. She'd wear her mother's old dress at the Heart tree, it seemed only right, it was faded but beautiful. They'd found it in a chest in the bowels of Winterfell, it was one of the few things not looted. Not that the old clothes were needed, being a new queen offered certain perks she hadn't considered. She had received a steady stream of gifts from across the seven kingdoms and the Free Cities since taking the throne, silks from Lords who wished to be in good graces with a new queen, dresses from tailors who wished her to commission further works and sweet plums from the boat builders in the south, eager to gain a favourable rate on lumber. But nothing had compared to the reaction her sister's return had induced, word had gotten out of the lost princesses return (as they well intended with Arya roaming freely) but Sansa did not confirm anything until the ravens began arriving. Questions, congratulations and salutations came from at first the closer lords but soon from the four corners of the realm and further. Sansa had ordered ravens be sent and riders too, to officially announce the return of princess Arya Stark to her rightful place.

Arya had received more dresses, veils, jewels and furs on her 'official' return than Sansa had received in her entire reign. The queen had been glad of this, Arya had very few items of clothing and even fewer that were fit for public duty, the arrival of the dresses at least gave them some options and then her sweet Lord Tyrion had truly iced the cake with his gift to her sister.

"A maid?" Arya had scoffed when the little man had introduced the bowing girl with impeccable hair.

"Your maid" Tyrion had responded softly, he seemed very keen on getting Arya to like him.

"I don't need a maid" Arya protested loudly which made Sansa frown.

"Your Grace, do you enjoy braiding your hair? Lacing up dresses and storing them? Picking out what to wear? Mending your undergarments?" he asked smugly.

"You know I don't!"

"Well then, meet the solution to all your woes. Her name is Coralline she is from Braavos and is an excellent swordswoman." Tyrion presented the maid again.

"My Grace." The girl bowed again and eyed Arya with some sort of awe.

"Say hello Arya!" Sansa had quipped

"Hello." And that had been that, Arya had a handmaid who she practiced water dancing with more than she preened but at least it was a start, her sister had a new wardrobe and beautiful things and a girl to help her wear them… now all she needed was the husband.

When the dress was done her fingers ached, it was beautiful. She smiled down at Agatha who had tears welling in her doe brown eyes "Are you well Agatha?" Sansa asked with genuine concern.

"My Grace, I am the daughter of a Moles Town whore. Your brother Jon Snow took us in when the wildlings attacked, and when he said I could come South with him… I never dreamed your Grace that I'd be sitting here stitching with the queen on her wedding gown." The girl wiped the tears away quickly, careful that none spill on the dress.

"Agatha, when my brother said he was returning to Winterfell I never dreamed he'd bring with him the best hand maid I've ever known." She smiled kindly and patted the girl, who must have only been a few years younger than her, on the cheek "Now go hang this up, I can hear Maester Tarly panting his way up the stairs. I shall go meet him half way."

"Yes My Grace." Agatha smiled sweetly as she lifted the dress reverentially and walked it to wire dummy where it would stay till the night of the wedding.

Sansa made it down a whole circle of stairs before she met Samwell, he panted unhealthily "My lord Maester you must cut down on the bacon, before your heart cuts down on you." She said not entirely unkindly, it was certainly coming from a place of care. Samwell was used to her chides and ignored them moving directly to the matter at hand.

"Your uncle Edmure is here Grace, he has the Smith with him and wishes an audience with you." Sam did not look pleased at all.

"Is he behaving like a fool?" Sansa asked, she never liked Edmure. She never understood how easily he'd accepted his fate, how foolish he'd been, how utterly inept in battle. She didn't' wait for Sam's reply "I'll deal with him."

When Sansa entered Winter hall she found her uncle ordering a servant to fetch him some wine, his tone was not a kind one and that irked Sansa. Her father had often said, and she wished she'd listened at the time, to judge a man not how he treats his peers but how he treats his staff.

"My lord uncle you look well." She said sweetly, as she swept towards him. Her eyes scanned the room and found a knight, face covered but broader shoulders than she had imagined. She couldn't tell anything else about his shape as he hovered in the corner wrapped in furs, they had just arrived.

"My Grace, my niece, Sansa…" He took a knee and kissed her hand pompously "Child, reigning suites you."

"Thank you, and thank you for leaving the twins to be with me on my union. It is so important to have a Tully here."

"You are your mother's image" her uncle sighed in a moment of vulnerability, the moment was lost when he coughed, leapt to his feet and looked at her suddenly. "Why was I ordered to bring the bastard knight?" he lacked any tact, and eyed her like she were a naughty child. "Are you in that dire need of a half decent Smith?" he prepared to sit, but Sansa stopped him.

"My Lord, the business I have with Ser Gendry is with him alone. Your room has been heated, a bath and hot meal await you." She smiled sweetly and indicated the large side door.

"I'm your elder, your uncle. You cannot dismiss me like some doll you've gotten bored of." Edmure sputtered angrily.

"As someone who has been the uncle of a crowned royal, she can dismiss you any way she likes" Tyrion had entered unnoticed and had waddled to her side. The Hound, who had agreed to stand in for Podrick until a suitable new body-man was found, placed a hand on his sword.

"I am…" Edmure made to argue.

"You are a lord serving at my pleasure uncle, please somehow get it through your drink addled brain that I am not playing at palaces and princesses. This is not a game, you stand before your Queen, not your niece. I will allow you that one moment of adjustment uncle, but you have now been warned. I may be half Tully but I am all Stark. Now go bathe, eat and sleep." She smiled again but this time tightly

"Your Grace" Edmure barely uttered as he dropped an exaggerated bow and walked from the room rather quickly.

"Very well handled Your Grace" Tyrion smiled, then called to the serving girls "Bring us some wine, bread, cheese… delicious little things for a delicious little man." The two girls giggled and ran from the room covering their mouths.

"You will not bed the servants." Sansa said through almost closed lips. She was sure she heard Sandor suppress a laugh from somewhere behind her.

"I wouldn't dare My Grace, everyone in this keep thinks I'm some evil imp… if I can show those two girls I'm merely some old lecherous Imp perhaps the children and old women will stop running away from me." Tyrion explained as he led Sansa across the hall to the knight who'd remained completely silent and still. When she was stood in front of him he dropped to one knee and lay his already drawn sword at her feet. "My Grace I…" He started but Sansa stopped him.

"Please don't ser, I can never remember the to and fro and it's so unnecessary. I accept your loyalty and allegiance and in return I will give you meat and mead and whatever else you fancy." She smiled disarmingly at the knight in full helmet, plate and furs. "Lyle, take the knights armour and furs to his chamber. Don't tell my uncle but I've had them put you in the nicest room." Sansa almost giggled as she ushered the serving boy over and insisted again that Gendry remove his mound of clothing and armour.

"The hall is heated by hot springs Ser, I can already see you are warm" The man blushed profusely as he pulled off his helmet and shrugged from his cloak. The smiling serving boy took them while surreptitiously handing the knight a clean linen to wipe the sweat from his brow "You're all shiny m'lord" Lyle whispered before sauntering away with a pile of furs bigger than himself.

She eyed the knight with shock, he was handsome, she hadn't expected that. Arya hadn't mentioned that. Gendry looked nervously at his feet, a moment of silence hung while Sansa evaluated him, she had learned much at Kings Landing, for a long time she had felt nothing but hatred for the place and the things she had seen, but as she found herself on the Northern throne she realised that queens must have 'plays', a means of getting men to do as ordered. Cersei had her sex, beauty and ruthlessness, Margaery had… well Margaery had sex and the mentality of a seasoned battle commander, only her wars had been fought in parlours and chambers, and her mother, what had she had? Lady Stark had fertility, she bred enough Starks to ensure an heir would survive even the war of the night. Sansa had none of those things fully, she was beautiful but still appeared young and she had none of the deviousness of her Kings Landing keepers. She was cunning though, and sweet. That was Sansa's play, and she played it well. Earnest sweetness followed by something witty, disarming the opponent who'd expected a silly girl, then she'd shift by asking a question, something personal to show she knew what she was talking about, smile, and then make her demand, making it sound reasonable and sensible, as if denying her was in fact 'silly'. She wasn't sure this tactic was ideal for the nervous man stood before her. "Please sit and eat with us Ser, Lord Tyrion and I would like to talk to you… Maester Samwell will join us too." She hadn't planned to say that, but when she looked at the smith knight, clearly uneasy in this company, she realised that Samwell could offer a calming element. Samwell might be high born but his wife (the worst kept secret in Winterfell) and his son (the second worst kept secret) were not, Sam might have been born a lord but through trials and life he'd been moulded into the very salt of the earth.

"as you wish your Grace." Sam said pleasantly, never one to refuse a meal. As he sat there was a strange noise from inside his robe and he grinned nervously as he patted his chest.

"Come on lad, you better do as she says. She's the Queen of these parts." Tyrion smiled up at Gendry who remained silent, and patted his elbow. The touch was enough to spur the man into action, he stepped forward, all boiled leather, bulging muscles and blushes and took a seat next to the large Maester who had already popped a chicken leg into his mouth.

Sansa and Tyrion sat opposite "Ser Gendry, I was surprised to see you without your famous Bull helmet." She said grinning as she poured a goblet of wine and pushed it towards her perhaps future brother. "drink" her tone rang with command and Gendry obliged with a deep gulp. He sighed and his nerves seemed to steady a little.

"Do you still have it?" she continued to question.

"What your Grace?" he asked, his voice solid and low.

"Your Bull helmet?"

"It's quite famous, both of the hands including Sansa's father wrote of it in their ledgers." Tyrion added with a smile.

"No your Grace, it's lost." His brow was furrowed as he looked from his Queen to the infamous Imp.

"Oh what a shame" she took his goblet and refilled it, remembering a Baratheon's tolerance for wine.

"Do you know why you are here lad?" Samwell asked after a look from Sansa, of course the Maester wasn't originally scripted for this plan but he knew what was happening, he was Jon's confident, he knew mostly everything that happened. Sansa noted with some concern that the Maester's free hand remained on his bulging belly, perhaps he was ill.

"I… I heard word that Arya… I mean her Grace the Princess, I heard she had returned. Am I to be punished?" he asked, his voice was scratchy and he kept his eyes on his empty plate.

"Punished for what Ser?" Sansa asked, her voice calm but curious.

"I left her to join the brotherhood, she was taken by the Hound. If I'd been there… It was my fault. And I accept the punishment Grace, I'm truly sorry." He sounded it too, he sounded almost distraught. Sansa made to talk but the sound of a booming voice from the other end of the hall stopped her.

"I'd have cut you down like a blade of grass boy." Sandor said not unkindly "The girl made it safely to Braavos thanks to me, she made it safe to me thanks to you… and herself. If I'm being honest it was mostly herself, she's a hell cat…"

"Thank you Sandor!" Sansa cut him off short, her eyebrows raised. Sandor was a fantastic sword and fiercely loyal but not one for protocol or etiquette.

"You are not here to be punished Ser Gendry." Sansa said in her most soothing and sweet tone.

"I can see why you thought you would be, last time a queen sent for you she wanted you dead didn't she?" Tyrion said a look of realisation dawning over his large scarred face.

Sansa saw an 'in' here as Gendry nodded, he seemed to have settled a little now that he knew he wasn't to be killed "do you know why you were sought by the Gold Cloaks?" she asked.

"No your Grace, I thought it might have something to do with your father and the old hand visiting me. But no I don't know." He cleared his throat and worried his brow, he had the expression of a person attempting to behave normally in an abnormal situation, it reminded Sansa of Arya which made her smile.

Tyrion sighed loudly. "It is uncanny." He stared at the boy "You are your father's spitting image, before he got fat and old and hairy." Gendry's eyes shot up and he stared intently at the dwarf, Sansa watched him closely.

"I'm a bastard Lord, I have no father" the Smith knight said shortly before shoving a piece of bread into his mouth, perhaps to stop him from saying more.

"Everyone has a father; you just don't know who yours is. I on the other hand do know… who yours is, I still doubt mine. And I think it is time you knew Gendry." Tyrion paused dramatically "You my lad are the bastard son of Robert Baratheon." The smith's eyes became suddenly wide and he inhaled sharply, bread caught in his throat and he coughed violently. Sam dropped the chicken he held in his left hand and thumped him once on the back, the small orb of saliva and bread shot from the knight's mouth and landed unceremoniously in front of the queen who couldn't help the titter which escaped her lips. Gendry made to scrabble for the regurgitated bread but the imp was quicker and had flicked it towards one of the many wolves laying by the fire, one snatched it quickly and returned to her dosing.

"I can't be."

"You are, your mother was a favourite of Robert, she fell pregnant with his baby. There are accounts of money being paid from the purse to your mother, until her death and further to pay for your apprenticeship. Three hands of the iron throne say you are his son, and beside that I have my eyes boy. I remember my sister's wedding, you take the beard from Robert Baratheon and you have your face. Has nobody ever mentioned it to you?"

"Yes." The smith knight said honestly with brows still furrowed.

"Well then." Tyrion concluded as if the matter entirely settled.

"are you alright?" Samwell asked patting the knight on the arm, Gendry was staring into space attempting to process the information he'd just been fed.

Sansa smiled, Arya had been a little more forthcoming about Gendry of late. After a glass of ale and some persistent questioning from her elder sister she'd told Sansa about how Gendry had taken to sleeping by her side and how when the night was bitter and he thought her asleep he'd move closer to keep her warm "He'd stay so close that I could feel the heat. He was always warm like a furnace" when Sansa had cooe'd at this Arya had snapped "Not like that." And stormed off ending that specific interlude. But Arya hadn't mentioned his bold Jaw, the dimples, his eyes, his muscles… all the things a girl should notice, she'd mentioned his honour, his skill, his loyalty.

"I don't imagine being the 'Bastard Knight' has been easy? According to some little birds you haven't been taken into the fold at the Twins. Is that why you're not a master armourer?" Tyrion questioned, he had a fondness for Bastards and broken things.

"The Lord Tully doesn't think it's fit for a bastard to hold that title" Gendry said with ire, emboldened slightly. Sansa smiled, he certainly had fire in his belly.

"My uncle is an ass." Sansa said, before she could stop herself.

"here here." Tyrion added, lifting his goblet and clinking it to hers.

Sansa pulled a small scroll from her sleeve and unfurled it "Gendry" she said softly, the knight finally looked at her fully and she smiled reassuringly "What I offer you now stands, irrespective of what happens… next" he looked perplexed but she continued "I have consulted with Lord Tyrion the Hand to the Dragon Queen" she indicated the man who had been her husband "and we have come to the decision that you should be legitimized. For your services during the wars, for your continued service to the North in spite of your southern heritage and for protecting Princess of the North Arya Stark with honour and dignity" she was sure she heard Sandor snort with derision.

"My queen in the south has agreed with the proviso you do not make a claim on your family seat of Storms End nor do you seek to take the iron throne. Do you accept these terms?" Tyrion was positively beaming now, the man before him nodded hastily.

"Very well. Welcome to Winterfell Lord Baratheon." Sansa grinned and handed Gendry the official scroll "there will have to be some sort of announcement… at the wedding feast tomorrow night perhaps." She refilled Gendry's cup for the third time "My sister Arya…" Gendry interrupted her, much to the shock of all who had given him up for silence

"Would it be acceptable for me to see her, whilst I'm here…" Sansa couldn't help but smile at this.

"I imagine so, yes" Tyrion responded with an impish smile.

"Arya is seven and ten now, how old are you My lord?" Sansa asked

"I'm one and twenty your Grace." He answered, his brow was yet to unknot.

"have you a girl? Someone waiting for you back at the neck?" Sam asked

"No sir."

Sansa stopped for a second, she had considered coming right out with it. But she thought of her sister, of her pride and her independence. Perhaps she'd just throw them together and see what happened, and if that didn't work then she'd start issuing edicts. Let them clap eyes on each other once before thrusting the daunting prospect of a royal wedding upon the newly titled Lord.

"Well we'll need to find you a wife and a keep wont we." Sansa said lightly as she smiled as though this concluded the matter, Tyrion looked at her with one brow raised but held his tongue.

"I…" Gendry wasn't sure what to say so stopped.

"Lyle will take you to your rooms, you can bathe, eat in privacy and get some sleep. I'll have the maids bring you up some fresh clothes for the feast tomorrow. I don't imagine you brought formal wear?" he shook his head in response "worry not Lord Gendry we'll find you something. You'll join our table at the feast tomorrow of course, I have room for ten and only nine to fill it. It would honour my father to have a Baratheon join our family at this feast." She continued to smile as Gendry continued to look like a fish out of water as he stood and bowed to her.

"Come on M'Lord" Lyle had appeared and was leading Gendry from the room "You're less shiny now Ser" the boy said helpfully as he guided the Smith Knight-Lord to his sleeping quarters.

"We missed a large portion of that out didn't we?" Tyrion finally said when Lord Baratheon was safely out of ear shot.

"perhaps it was a little mad of me but a romantic notion took hold, perhaps we let them see each other before foisting matrimony upon them?" she smiled and looked to Sam "You're behaving very strangely Samwell, is there something wrong with your stomach?" she asked indicating his hand.

He was prohibited from answering by the sudden appearance of Jon who gave the Maester a significant look "there's a raven arrived for you Samwell" he said shortly, he was lying, Sansa could always tell.

"What is going on?" she asked in exasperation.

"The fat ones got a baby under his cloak" Sandor shouted from the other end of the hall, ever the helpful and observant.

"Maester Samwell?" Sansa asked "surely…" she stopped, he did look bigger. And a small smile was creeping over his round face.

"Gilly, she's had another baby." And when he said it he looked so proud and pleased, Jon was grinning too.

"Congratulations Samwell!" Tyrion had stood and walked round to shake his hand, the Maester opened up his robes to reveal a hearty babe fast asleep, rosy cheeked and strapped quite securely to his front.

"She's my little girl" he said as he gently held one of her tiny sleeping hands. "little Lyanna." He said, Jon looked away for a second. He'd known about the baby, about her name, about everything for months now… but it still choked him a little that Gilly and Sam would name their child for his mother.

"She's perfect." Tyrion said tickling her small foot.

Sansa was smiling, she knew she shouldn't be. She knew she should be chastising her Maester, writing to the citadel, doling out punishments… but love was more important than rules and Samwell and Gilly were so very much in love.

"Little Lyanna Tarly." Sansa smiled "she'll have a place at court when she's grown."

"Thank you your Grace." Sam bobbed an odd curtsey, incapable of a bow. Sansa was just relieved that the perceived extra bulk around the Maester was a large baby rather than ale and ham.

"When Arya arrives back from her hunt with the wolves and Rickon have her sent straight to her quarters and bathed" She called to Jon as she stood and straightened her dresses. "Come on Sandor." She nodded to the hound who was at her heel in an instant.

"where to my Grace?"

"I'm going to sup with Pod" she said attempting to dampen the excitement in her voice.

"Do I have to chaperone?" the hound asked sullenly.

"yes."


	8. Chapter 8

Arya

She had arrived back from the hunt well after dark, the men were sodden and cold from the snow but they had found a boar and several stags fighting through the ice to the south. Enough fresh meat to ensure the Queens wedding would be a truly regal occasion, she felt triumphant as she squelched into Winter hall blood smeared on her face and mud kicked up her haunches, Nymeria swaggering beside her.

"You've to bathe and bed." Jon said when he caught sight of her.

"says who?" she asked sitting beside him and taking a large swill from his cup.

"The queen, it's her wedding tomorrow so you must be on your best behaviour!" he said teasingly with a prod to her side.

"I have to wear a dress." She moaned, standing again and preparing to head back into the cold and over to the great keep and her warm room. "I'm going to look ridiculous."

"you're going to look beautiful." Jon said with a reassuring smile, Arya rolled her eyes in response.

Coralline was waiting for her in her room, the bath was already drawn and her night clothes were laid out.

"good hunting your Grace?" the handmaid asked as she helped the princess out of her muddy boots and sodden breeches.

"surprisingly so!" she stepped into the hot water with a satisfied sigh.

Coralline proceeded to scrub Arya from head to toe. The Braavosi girl used orange oils and spiced vanilla to cleanse her Graces skin and scent her hair "I shall comb it through tonight." She said to Arya as she eyed the many knots in her thick brown locks, "it'll be easier whilst it's wet."

Arya grimaced, just like she'd done all those years ago when her mother had told her the same thing. "the queen is coming Arya, you can't go out with matted hair" that's what her mother had said… she wished she could go back in time and acquiesce without note, she wished she could go back and smile and nod and hug her mother and tell her she loved her rather than curse her. She would be good for her sister's wedding, to make up for all the times she was bad. She was determined that she would be on her best behaviour, she'd enthuse about her hairstyle and smile prettily at the Lords… just for Sansa she would be a lady. She nodded and allowed her handmaid to run a bone comb over and over through the knots that had built up over days of inattention, her hair was longer than it had been in years almost down to her middle like her mothers It had been part of her reclaiming of the identity she'd lost the day it had all been chopped off, the day she'd stopped being Arya.

When it was finally untangled the water had grown tepid, she stepped out and was wrapped in linens by the handmaid who grinned puckishly "I'm quite sure I've just developed muscles where there were none before." The girl said as she flexed her aching arms.

"maybe give the ones in your jaw a rest to compensate?" Arya responded with a twin grin as she nudged the girl and pulled her night dress on. "are my dresses for tomorrow ready?" she asked, her nose scrunched in distaste at even discussing finery.

"yes your Grace, the day and the night. I'll lace you in and make sure you're presentable. There's nothing for you to worry about." Coralline smiled reassuringly as she turned down the bed, already occupied by Nymeria. The wolf had taken to the little Braavosi as quickly as Arya and gave her hand a gentle nudge with her nose as she pulled the sheets back.

"Your sister wants to Break her fast with you in the solar, then you're to get dressed together as is northern custom. You'll be in the Godswood by sundown which will fall at around three" she listed the activities for the next day as she tucked Arya under the blankets in a motherly fashion, Arya liked that about Coralline… she was young but had an old soul. It was a typical Braavosi trait, the women there were very maternal in nature "it will just be you and your brothers and sister, her betrothed, The imp, and the Maester. Then you and your sister will return and change for the feast, and the rest will be easy." The little woman said soothingly as she extinguished the lamps and made to exist.

"Thank you Coralline" Arya called, sounding younger than ever.

"You are welcome Princess Arya." As she closed the door the girl from Braavos sent up a prayer of protection over the wolf girl, her ward.

The wedding day felt like a rush and Arya struggled to hold to her promise to be on her best behaviour, Sansa was a potent mixture of giddy and anxious which seemed to cause Arya great laughter. They broke their fast with a luxurious meal of creamed eggs and lemon tarts and while Arya shoved the delicacy's, Sansa's favourites, down her throat like they were her last meal Sansa frowned and worried her lips.

"What's wrong?" Arya had asked for the millionth time "You've done nothing but go on about how much you love Pod, and I've been really patient and good at feigning interest… and got no credit might I add… and now you look like you're on your way to an execution" Perhaps not the wisest choice of words, Arya's gallows humour was far more refined than the queens.

"I am a maiden" Sansa groaned, she wished there were older women, a septa, a mother, an aunt to tell her what exactly she should do "what If I do it wrong?"

"Oh don't be silly, it's easy… you just let him stick you with the pointy end." Arya grinned at the queen, her big sister… who's tension broke in a roar of laughter, like a crashing wave against salted rocks.

" Arya!" she squealed in delight and shock.

'I will be good today, I will make Sansa smile and be polite to drunk Lords, I will not stab anyone, I will eat with utensils and not my fingers, I will not run, I will behave like the Septa always wanted me to… I will be a princess for Sansa.' Arya repeated her mantras as she was forced into the first dress of the day, Coralline had picked her clothes and her day dress, the dress she'd wear to the heart tree was very nice if dresses were your thing. Thick sky blue fabric formed a stiff garment, the neckline was high and only allowed for her collar bone to show, the sleeves long and fitted showed off her slender but well defined arms. Arya was short and slim but she had breasts, much to her own chagrin "I can't fire a bow like I used to" she'd countered when Sansa had complimented her on her bosom… Sansa had been drinking wine since breakfast

"Coralline, please force my sister to sit and eat some bread at least." Arya said as she eyed herself once more in the long polished brass. the fitted bone of the corsetry made her usual hunched figure seem longer and more womanly. She'd been forbidden from strapping her chest down and so felt a little off balance. "I'll be wearing a cloak over this?" she asked Coralline who was currently helping Agatha with the elaborate braiding of Sansa's hair as the queen silently ate strips of bacon.

"As Her Graces witness and unwed sister you must stand with her… cloak-less as a show of solidarity my grace." Agatha answered, she was a font of knowledge when it came to the 'old ways' Arya imagined that she was how an 'old nan' started, and perhaps in 100 years' time when they were long dead 'old Aggy' would still be here in Winterfell, wizened and knitting and telling the Stark children about the first Queen of the North and her wolf sister.

"I'll be frozen."

"You will be fine." Coralline said reassuringly as she guided Arya to a chair and made a start on her hair.

There was a knock at the door.

"who is it?" Sansa called tipsily.

"Maester Samwell your Grace, I have someone who wishes to speak… it's urgent your Grace." His tone was so strange, so worried that Arya knew something was wrong. Sansa seemed to sober instantly. Coralline reached into her waistband and retrieved a small dagger and placed herself between Arya and the door.

"enter." The queen said, her voice no longer giggling.

The door opened and Sam stood aside to reveal a man, older now but still familiar "Harwin?" it was her father's man, the master of horses.

"You are to be married today?" he asked Sansa, she nodded. His voice was cold and worn. "and you someday soon Lady Arya?" Arya nodded too.

"Then I have come at the right time." He laid two small packages on the floor and cleared his throat, he was filthy, his hair long and wild his nails grubby. "Lady Stoneheart wishes you luck and happiness on this special day" he recited without much tone "She wishes that your mother could have been with you but hopes that the gifts she has sent will ease the loss" … "She also requests that Arya stop attempting to make contact with her, she is north of north where she will stay till the skies turn black and the earth turns to ice. Alone." His final word seemed the only one with emotion.

"she has sent you away?" Arya asked, hoping her sister would not be upset at her direct disobeyed orders… she wanted to see her mother, even if she wasn't her mother at all.

"She sent us all away once she found a spot."

"a spot?" Sansa asked.

"to sit." He responded as though the most logical thing ever. "I must leave, Lyanna, Caitlyn…" he looked around the room disorientated before Samwell led him from it. "I'll see he's cared for." The Maester said quietly as he closed the door leaving the two packages.

"I will inspect them." Coralline said firmly as she strode to the packages and eyed them, prodding them with her knife. She nodded her satisfaction, Arya was the first to walk over she bent and picked a small parcel wrapped in grubby cloth. The letter 'A' was shakily scrawled, she peeled back the fabric revealing a small wooden box. She opened it with shaking fingers and saw something she'd never thought she'd see again "It's mother's fish comb!" she gasped "Sansa it's the one I loved when I was little, look!" she looked to her sister who remained seated, Agatha was no longer braiding her long auburn hair. Sansa's eyes were red and fat tears rolled from them; Arya bent low and picked up the other package handing it to her sister.

"They're not really from mother, you know that?" Sansa said sharply

"Yes." Arya said.

"But it was nice of Old Cold heart to think of us." Arya projected calm acceptance, inside she was a cyclone of hurt, anguish and fresh loss. She would be strong for her sister.

"It was probably Harwin's idea, now that she's gone… North. An old lady sent us our Lady mothers jewellery for your wedding day, isn't that nice." Arya knelt before her sister "It's my fault she sent him, I've been sending Ravens for months now all over asking to see her. It's my fault I'm sorry, I just wanted to see mother."

"I felt the same way when I heard word, but then when I got an audience with her… She's not mother, she's monstrous." Sansa sympathised with Arya's curiosity "I understand little sister; you were only doing as I had already done." Sansa took a breath and looked to the small box Arya had laid on her knee, a crude S carved on it. She opened it and couldn't help the smile when she saw the black onyx ring her father had bought for her mother when she'd bore him Robb. They were both in this ring, and that seemed to lighten her slightly.

"Your Graces, time… We haven't much of it left." Coralline said as delicately as one could in this situation.

"I want my mother's comb in my hair please." Arya said handing it to the maid, she noticed with a smile that Coralline wiped the teeth of the comb on her skirt thoroughly, a poisoned comb was not unheard of.

"you know Jon and Sandor have already been through all this, they'd never have let him up without a full search." She said quietly to the ever diligent maid.

"One can never be too careful when it comes to combs" the Braavosi said cryptically with a wiggle of her eyebrows before picking up a length of hair and weaving it with another.

The rest of their time in the solar went by with a much more sombre tone, Arya attempted to lift Sansa's mood by offering her more wine but she had shaken her head and retreated back to veering between anxiety and light headedness. Finally, it came time to head to the Godswood, Jon, Rickon and three Wolves arrived at the door of the Solar to collect them and escort them to the heart tree. Bran, Podrick, Samwell and Tyrion waited there.

"Take a deep breath Sansa" Jon said as he led her down the stairs "there's a lot of people waiting." Arya hadn't expected that, but when the doors of the great keep opened and dusks light trickled in she saw a sea of humanity split down the middle allowing them to walk across the courtyard and into the Godswood. All of the lords, Banner-men, small folk from Wintertown and the surrounding hamlets stood in silence and watched in awe as Sansa their queen led the Stark Pack out of the Great Keep, a wolf at either side of her, Arya walked behind her with Rickon at her side and her Direwolf, Jon finished the train alone. The people in silent awe fell in behind him as they walked, closing the passage. Arya kept her eyes forward-facing, watching her sisters head, she knew the men at the front of the crowds were Sansa's men and felt safer for it. She heard whispers of praise as she passed, apparently the wolf girl in a dress was a bigger treat than the wedding itself to some... she grinned a little at this and attempted to quell it. When Rickon saw her struggling to remain straight faced he too started to grin, it was infectious anyone who looked at the two young Starks struggling to remain composed as they walked the short distance to their sister's wedding started grinning too. And then they were in the Godswood, and soldiers blocked off the archways leading in and everything felt quiet.

"lord Edmure's making a fuss My lord." She heard one of the guards tell Jon.

"Tell him to fuck off." Jon responded in a barely audible whisper.

"Edmure is here?" 'Well of course he is' she thought to herself, 'it's his nieces wedding.' "Oh Gods is Gendry here?" she gasped suddenly very self-conscious.


	9. Chapter 9

Sansa

Sansa for the first time since the gifts had been delivered to the solar, smiled, it was almost a smirk it was so self-satisfied. "Don't curse in the Godswood Arya" she said in mock indignation as she continued to beam at her little sister, navigating through the trees and hot pools to the Heart tree. "I was going to present him to you tonight, he has no idea that you sent for him so you can take that panicked look off." She said, noting Arya's wide eye's and open mouth.

"He's legitimized now anyway so he'll probably be betrothed before moon rise." Sansa teased as she stopped, the Heart Tree in sight she took a breath amazed at how little she felt the cold. She straightened her dress and checked the black onyx ring on her right hand. "I am to be married." She stated out loud.

"yes… that's what we're all dressed up for." Arya said only a little sarcastically. Jon and Rickon lingered behind the pair, listening intently. Pod was watching them from the tree, his face a little panicked at the sight of them all standing still, no longer walking towards him. "If you want to run we can, I know people." Arya whispered to her, Sansa wasn't entirely sure her little sister was joking, but it didn't matter because she wasn't going anywhere.

"Mother said that when she first saw father under the heart tree that's when she was sure she loved him." Sansa said almost dreamily.

"is that how you feel now?" Arya asked, not rushing her in the slightest.

"My heart feels like it might explode out of my chest" Sansa whispered as she continued to stand and stare.

"That's probably it then." Arya said with a smile "Come on now, you're going to get a cloak in a minute… unlike me who remains freezing with chafing nipples" Arya smiled and nudged her sister back into the present and away from thoughts of their parents and all the loss that went with them.

"I like that one of the last things I heard as a maid was "chafing nipples"" Sansa giggled as she walked briskly to the incredibly relieved looking group of men standing round the weeping heart tree.

The ceremony flew by, and she felt elated from start to finish. This was nothing like her other wedding, she was excited… almost breathlessly so, Podrick placed his cloak over her shoulders. It was not his families but a new one Tyrion had had commissioned for him, they had kissed and the watchers who had dared to climb up the walls and spy from there let out a cheer, the cheer rolled across Winterfell. A chant flew up of "Queen and King in the North!" as the party made its way back through the Godswood towards the Courtyard, the women heading to the great keep to change again and the men to the winter hall to drink.

"I wish I was coming with you." Podrick whispered as they approached the Godswood entrance and the cheering crowd.

"me too" she'd whispered before landing a swift peck on his cheek, the crowd who could see through the small door let out a frantic cheer, which made the queen giggle and the king blush. She heard Tyrion who was somewhere behind her say in awe "they really do have love for her."

The crowd were far less placid on exiting the gate, they threw handfuls of green pine needles over the couple "to represent fertility and endurance in winter" Agatha had told her that morning. They were un-jostled for the most part, but her guard remained a tight circle around the pair the other Starks had the wolves and Brans massive wheeled chair to part the crowd.

Sansa was carried over the stoop of the keep by Podrick, when he placed her down over the threshold and placed another kiss on her lips, the crowds of lords and small folk cheered again and Podrick was carried off in a sea of men to the Winter Hall where he'd be forced to drink a horn of ale very quickly "to represent that no matter how important the day, your husband will be in the tavern getting pissed with his friends" Coralline had said that morning with a giggle, making the rest of them laugh.

Sansa and Arya were back in the Solar, the mood between them was jovial again. Sansa felt calmer now that she was officially married… she somehow felt safer and even allowed Arya to talk her into drinking her own horn of ale 'very quickly' Lyle the servant boy ran faster than lightning without spilling a drop and handed both Queen and Princess a horn each on bended knee. "To the Queen!" Arya had shouted, Lyle, Agatha and Coralline joined the cheer and Sansa tilted her head back and managed to sink almost three quarters of the horn. She handed the rest to Agatha with a grin "here, you've been a wonderful help. Share my drink." The maid took the horn with a grin and imitated her mistresses action finishing it off.

"You better not be expecting seconds of mine Cora!" Arya laughed.

"I'd be disappointed if my mistress weren't capable of swilling a horn in a single draught!" Coralline jibed back.

Arya, true to form, necked the entire horn, belched then shouted something of equality. She did pour coralline a glass of wine which she too necked. Sansa grinned "we'll be drunk before the feast" she said breathily as Agatha lifted the heavy day dress over her head and began unlacing her corset. Lyle the serving boy was now sat on one of the small chairs smiling and listening to the chatter happily, he liked being around the ladies and their maids.

"What have you been up to little Lyle?" Arya asked him noting his little face had almost gone unnoticed in the hurry to get undressed "are you trying to catch a peak of the queens under things?"

"I've already seen 'em!" he said proudly and Sansa shrieked a laugh in return

"Lyle!" she chastised him, though Sansa enjoyed the little serving boy very much. He liked to impersonate the older wenches, swaying his bottom around, his tiny nine-year-old body bent into all sorts of funny shapes.

"Well I 'ave your Grace" he said all innocent and light "I help old Stump tooth with the laundry on a Sunday."

"So he wasn't lying then." Arya turned to Sansa with a grin, Sansa still had on under skirts a corset and a vest. Arya on the other hand was in nothing more than her corset and smalls, Lyle seemed entirely disinterested.

"I'll tell you a secret!" he said to Arya with wonder in his eyes.

"Go on then." Arya said walking closer.

"can I get a plum?" he asked, Sansa allowed Agatha to let her hair down for a spell as she watched the little serving boy and her sister at play.

"I'll give you two if it's a really good secret!" Arya lifted a box from the table and wiggled her eyebrows at the boy, opening the box a crack to let him see the sugared plums inside.

"I've been helping your friend get ready" Lyle responded eagerly.

"What friend?"

"The handsome Lord with the big arms! All the girls in the castle think he's the boars tusk. He likes me so he does, he talks to me… he's not like a proper Lord!" the boy squeaked excitedly "He's been asking all sorts about you all day. I only told him the good stuff."

"What kind of stuff has he asked?" Arya, for the first time in Sansa's eyes looked like a maid, a blush creeping up her cheeks as she stood in her finest small things, with silk bows and ruffles.

"Where you've been, who you were with, what you do all day, who you do it with… that sort of thing, but like I said Your Grace I told him only nice things, none of the bad stuff." Sansa liked little Lyle, he had a knack for engaging his betters and his elders without being tiresome.

"What's the bad stuff?" Arya asked withholding the sugar plums.

"Your odour and demeanour for starters your grace… but not today, you smell lovely today princess. How lucky for Lord Gendry!" He giggled and reached out his hands. Sansa could not contain the bubbles of laughter at her sisters face, bested by a little boy.

"Give him the whole box, that was a mummer's farce of the highest order!" Sansa clapped her hands with delight as Arya slowly handed the box of plums to the boy, pulling it away a few times when he reached for it.

"If I'd known we already had an entertainer in the castle, I wouldn't have sent for a fool." Arya smiled at the boy.

"be off with you Lyle, I don't want you telling the castle you've seen the queen naked." Sansa said with a wave of her hand at the puckish boy.

"as you wish M'Grace!" he bowed low and scurried off to enjoy his sugared plums in some dark corner.

Sansa was re-corseted, her smalls changed and her hand sewn gown pulled on, the dress she had made for the feast was a less modest than her day dress, the tops of her breasts were visible over the 'V' of the bodice, long flowing sleeves hung from her shoulders, the skirt a cascade of grey silks with wolves and flowers embroidered down the front in white thread. Her hair was tied back up after much debate, Agatha won out after she insisted her neck was too beautiful to hide tonight. She hadn't paid attention to Arya and _her_ maid, not until Arya spun into her line of vision and asked "any thoughts?"

Perhaps it was because Arya so often dressed like her father, or perhaps it was that she rarely looked this clean, but it seemed almost shocking to Sansa to see her little sister stood before her looking like a woman. Coralline had put her mistress in a dress which had been sent from an anonymous patron in Braavos, the finest blue lace ran from her clavicle all the way down to her toes, two flowing sleeves were attached with gold hoops, gold threads embroidered the lace in a meandering vine round her hips and down her legs. The garment, which would not look out of place in the free cities fastened behind her neck with a thin gold chain. three rows of blue ribbon wrapped around her bare back and were tied in beautiful bows holding the lace front to her chest but leaving swathes of her skin visible right down to her lower back where the skirts began, the lace with the gold embroidery ran straight from waist to toe, thinning on the lower half so the silhouette of her legs was visible. Sansa struggled to find words, it was beautiful but unlike anything she'd ever seen. The dress made her sister's usually hard small body seem soft and long.

"You look beautiful." She said honestly.

"If I'm going to look ridiculous, I might as well do it in style." Arya murmured self-consciously patting down the skirts, even her hair looked lovely, a long plait with gold thread which hung down her back.

"You don't look ridiculous. I cannot guarantee Jon will not force you into a cloak." Sansa laughed as she stood and prepared to walk the short distance to Winters Hall "the crowd should have thinned, there's a pit roast and mead at all of the gates" Sansa called the wolves to her side and moved to the door, when she pushed it open she was slightly shocked to see Sandor, though she shouldn't have been.

"finally" the old hound grumped as she exited the room and headed, with excitement and trepidation to her wedding feast.


	10. Chapter 10

Arya

"My Grace?" Coralline asked as Arya hung back. She ignored the maid as she pulled on the long navy cloak Coralline had brought in case Arya "wasn't brave enough" to just wear the dress, and she did feel a little defeated, she picked up Needle, she'd put her under the table in case things got rowdy.

"I'll take it off when I get in, I'm just wearing it because it's cold"

"I shall escort you, and take it from you once in the hall. I shall carry your sword too My Grace and place it under your chair… It would not do for you to enter armed." The maid reached out her hands, there was no room for argument and Arya saw it.

Sansa had claimed the grounds would be a little clearer but she'd been wrong, there were still throngs of people in the cold waiting to see their princess walk to dinner, Arya shook her head as they chanted her name and wished her blessings. Coralline and the two guards were absolutely unnecessary with a playfully snarling Nymeria circling her tightly as she walked, they were so in sync they never touched. The cheering crowd parted easily and the wind picked up her cloak revealing a little of her dress sending another cheer through the crowd.

"Welcome home Princess" A woman shouted from her left, she turned and smiled kindly reaching out a hand to pat the old woman's arm. She shouldn't have done that, they'd all reached to grab her, they weren't trying to hurt her. They just wanted to say hello and she realised that but Nymeria was already in strike position "Nymeria heal." Arya said through gritted teeth as she wrenched her hand back "I'm sorry but I must attend my sister's feast." She said as kindly as she could to the ten people who'd just fought over her arm. The guards were jostling them back now as she continued the last few feet to the noisy Winter Hall. When they entered Coralline ran ahead, found her mistresses seat and placed her sword under it. Arya had stopped in the entrance, afraid to step into the massive heave of humanity stuffed within the four walls. She worried for a moment that the walls would burst open like the crabs in Braavos when they became too big for their shells. She marvelled at Corallines ability to snake through the crowd so rapidly, she was back in mere minutes her hand outstretched "Cloak." She demanded and Arya hesitantly obliged, shrugging the cloth from her bare shoulders.

"have fun" Coralline said with a grin as she exited the roaring hall back into the _roaring_ crowd.

Arya scanned the room and found the raised table of her kin at the far end, Sansa was already staring at her, she waved at her from her high seat and the look on her face brought Arya no comfort. She looked like she'd just bested her, she looked like a very happy queen indeed. A figure was moving through the crowd; she could see the bulk heading towards her. That paired with Sansa's face and she knew her fate, she was not stupid. She breathed, schooling her face into one of polite recognition and straightened her back 'I'm a fucking princess' the voice of The Hound said from somewhere deep in her psyche, it was unsettling.

Gendry crested the sea of people and finally she laid eyes on him, and he was a man… when she remembered him she had thought she remembered a man, but looking at him now she realised that the Gendry she'd known six years ago had been nothing more than an adolescent. This… mountain of a human before her. He was A man.

"Arya… Your Grace." He attempted to bend the knee but there was no room, the crowd surrounding them were being held off by Gendry's massive shoulders and the snarling bitch of a Direwolf which was circling her and despising the smell of all those humans.

"Gendry." She'd meant to be calm, cool but sweet, she'd meant to say something like 'My Lord I do recall we travelled briefly as children' something to make him think she hadn't been thinking about him. But that was all out of the window when he grinned that idiotic grin at her, deep dimples made even deeper, his smiling eyes crinkling at the corners "I've missed you" She said suddenly before clearing her throat and attempting a playful punch, her adrenaline actually resulted in a pummel punch on his elbow.

In quick succession he winced, his funny bone now radiating a strange sickly sensation through his body and she shouted "fuck" and clutched her knuckles which throbbed with the white hot pain a person gains after piston punching something as hard as Gendry's elbow.

The surrounding men saw their precocious princess and sword mistress clutching her hand while a massive knight loomed over her, they rallied drawing their own blades.

"I'm fine, as you were men." She shouted sullenly "I hurt my hand… waving. Gendry was just at the wrong end of it." She added lamely, the bearded men who would normally have guffawed at the scruffy princess remained silent, they were staring at her.

"My grace, a princess as lovely as you shouldn't walk to her table unaccompanied." A young lord who'd joined Sansa's guard recently said breathily, attempting to step forward but finding Nymeria in his path.

"Lord Stade if a lovely princess was in such dire need of an escort she'd hope for someone better than a man she's bested repeatedly with a sword." The men surrounding her laughed jovially, a young keep guard who had hunted with her made to slap her back as he would have done any other day, only to realise her back was bare. He withdrew his hand instantly.

"you look lovely my Grace" said a banner-man, someone from the house Mormont she thought, he was complimenting her like an uncle would. She appreciated it.

"Thank you my Lord, my lovely Sister the Queen did demand that I dress appropriately or be clapped in irons." Arya smiled, playing the part as best she could, the men obliged with chuckles "Gendry, escort me to the table please." She said quickly before any more of the men surrounding her could offer a compliment. She'd only practiced the one witty response and her brain wasn't functioning, she was still processing the boy she'd once knowns current state of… manliness.

"I'm sorry I punched you." She said quietly as he took her arm and led her through the crowd, most people parted without asking, bowing as she passed and throwing compliments at her.

"It is fine My Grace." He said calmly.

"I'm Arya." She hated her titles.

"You've gone all stiff are you alright?" he asked, her arm rigid in his.

"I think I chose the wrong dress." She finally said, her partially bare back making her suddenly self-conscious

"I think you chose well my Grace." He responded simply but it made her heart flutter all the more, and she felt sick at her own reaction.

They had finally arrived at the table and he pulled her chair out for her, needle clunked against the leg but he made no note. Arya sat, finally glad to have something between her back and their eyes. Her sister, the queen was seated in the centre to her left. Podrick was on her sister's other side, staring at Sansa intently. She looked down the table to find where Gendry would be seated and was shocked to realise he had taken the seat right beside her. In amongst her family, Bran to his right and then Meera. Jon, Rickon, Tyrion and Samwell sat on the other side of the royal couple. She looked down to the tables in front and saw her uncle, Lord Edmure on one of the closest benches to them with the most beloved of the Queens Lords and Kin, his face was livid as he stared open mouthed at the bastard smith sitting two places from the Queen.

"Have you told my uncle your fortuitous news?" She asked without looking round at him, she could sense he was leaning close enough to hear her, it made her skin prickle and she cursed her own flesh.

"Not yet your Grace." He answered with only the slightest of chuckles.

"I think you may have to, quite soon." Arya responded quickly as Edmure strode up the steps to the raised table and made a beeline straight for Gendry.

"What is the meaning of this?" he hissed "Have you any notion the humiliation? The queen invites my smithy to sit with her but snubs her own blood."

"Lord Gendry is a friend of mine." Arya stated plainly, she didn't like Edmure he was too much a Tully.

"Lord? He's barely a Ser, he was knighted by some old priest." Edmure spat leaning closer to Arya, the guards on duty started to ready themselves to move forward.

"He's a Lord and quite soon he may be your Lord. You were warned uncle… you were warned." Sansa ended it with a flat tone as she leaned across her sister. "Now go back to your table."

Sansa sighed sadly with a shake of her head "he's such a…" she searched for the words.

"cunt?" Arya asked under her breath, Sansa gasped, as a lady should but smiled a nod in response.

"Best get this over with." The queen stood and the hall fell silent, Lord Edmure had barely returned to his seat when the hall stood with the queen, he groaned as he found his feet again.

"My Lords, family, banner-men and honoured guests. I am humbled that you found your way through the snow to sup with my king and I on this most special day. May the old gods have our thanks" Sansa cared not for the new ones "They have returned my sister princess Arya" a cheer shot up around the hall, "they have delivered me a true and honourable husband, a husband my father would be proud to call son." An even bigger cheer went up "and they have brought us Kin we had long suspected gone. Since the days of the children the Stark house and the house of Baratheon have been brothers, intertwined through bonds and oaths, old and new… When king Robert fell and his children revealed as untrue we believed the Baratheon line to have ended, we were wrong. It is with a great honour as your queen and your friend to present Lord Gendry Baratheon, son of Robert." Sansa pointed to Gendry who looked out at the crowd with a pale and confused face. The men and women in the crowd were roaring.

"You have to stand" Arya whispered to the bastard boy beside her "stand up you big lummox" she shot a little louder when he remained still and staring. Arya groaned, reached a hand to his and held it firmly, she found her own feet and with considerable strain managed to force Gendry to his, she raised his arm into the air and the roar became a cheer. She remained standing hand in hand with him, she knew it wasn't the 'done' thing but she worried if she let go he'd topple over from sheer fright.

"Lord Baratheon will join court here at Winterfell and will remain in the North, the spiritual home, if not the physical of the Baratheon house." Sansa finished "Now drink, eat and for the sake of the gods please be merry. You all deserve it." The crowd chanted for Queen Sansa, the crowds beyond the hall and roaming the grounds of Winterfell took up the call and the North rang with praise for the queen and her family.

"Sit down now." Arya said quietly to Gendry, the queen had taken her seat again and so were the crowds. He obliged but his hand remained tightly wound around her much smaller one.


	11. Chapter 11

Sansa

The queen smiled a little tipsily as she noted that Gendry seemed intent upon clutching her little sisters hand, the meat had been served and Arya had been forced to dine with only one arm. She'd muttered something about the "King slayer" as she chewed. For the most part it didn't seem romantic, it was a scared boy clutching onto an anchor as he floated unfamiliar waters but it was something at least.

She took another swig of wine and stifled a yawn she dreaded what came next, she would be expected to leave the hall and the celebrations long before they were over. Wine and ale had been guzzled and she fretted over the 'traditions' of her people. She did not wish to be stripped nor mocked by her banner-men.

She heard Arya whisper "I need my hand back boy…. It's all sweaty." And she stifled a smile "Sansa, are you tired?" Arya was now turned in her seat fully facing her, Podrick overheard and blushed… he knew what Sansa being 'Tired' meant… they all did.

"I don't…" Sansa started but Arya cut her off.

"I've not given you your gift yet." Her little sister grinned like the Arya underfoot of years gone, like the girl who had told Septa to 'shove her tapestry up her bung hole'

"Whatever you plan…" Sansa was panicked; would her sister be the instigator of her shame? Would she rile the men to carry her off to the great keep, Arya in full dress turned and looked to Gendry "help me climb onto the table would you?" she said and the bastard Lord obliged without question.

"Arya Stark get down." Sansa hissed between clenched teeth, she sounded so much like her mother when she chastised Arya.

"Lords, Ladies, gentleman and drunkards." Arya roared from her stance on the high table, and the hall fell silent, she had that blasted sword in her raised hands. Arya had mentioned briefly that she'd been a mummer but Sansa hadn't fully believed it until this moment, the Lords were laughing at their princess's playful jibe "We here in the North have a tradition…" the lords and ladies and drunkards cheered, Sansa groaned and buried her face into her palms, Podrick for his part looked equally stricken.

"That tradition is shit… so here's what will happen… Boys!" she snapped her fingers and five Queen's guards stepped forward. Sansa looked utterly bewildered, the crowd seemed to be enjoying Arya's little choreographed show "the queen's guard will carry her out of the hall, she will remain clothed. Sorry Lord Stane the only tits you'll be seeing tonight are your own" The crowd roared with laughter, Lord Slate who'd been at Stane's side fell off of his chair he laughed so hard. "You may wish her a good bedding and many sons, you may compliment her beautiful dress or bid her a good night… you may not comment on her body, her orifices or her husband's sword and helmet. This is your Queen" the men and the few women in the hall cheered as Sansa chuckled and her men surrounded her, lifting her gently to sit atop their shoulders. Only two of the guards were required to carry her, the rest formed a circle and jokingly prodded at onlookers with outstretched hands, Sansa looked to her sister as she was carried with dignity through the winters hall and she mouthed 'Thank you'.

"As for King Podrick, I couldn't find any girls big enough to carry him, I did send a raven to the giants." Arya continued, Podrick looked petrified and the crowd clapped as their princess danced along the table to stand in front of her king, careful not to topple a single goblet. "they declined" Podrick sighed with relief "so it's your former brethren who'll be hauling you off to bed!" Sansa watched from her high stance near the door as the remaining guards scurried forward and hoisted their new king and old commander high above their heads with none of the reverence they'd shown her. She tutted sympathetically but couldn't help the titter as she watched Pod be carried towards her, Arya crouched, snatched up a goblet of wine raised it in the air and called "The King and Queen in the North!" the men and women filling Winter Hall stood and raised their glasses joining the toast. As Pod drew closer to Sansa Arya called after him "Just remember King Pod, 'You stick her with the pointy end'" Sansa's eyebrows had shot up, the crowd had burst into cheers and applause at Arya's finale. She bowed, a true mummer, Jon had spat half a goblet of wine on her closing statement.

Sansa and her King were carried through the now slightly quieter courtyard over to the great keep, the few revellers still waiting wished them a good bedding and many sons, Sansa found her stomach tightening as they entered the keep and the pair were carried to her rooms. The guards, with blushing grins placed the pair at the door wordlessly when they turned to leave Sansa was sure she could hear them giggling.

"well." She said nervously as she reached her hand for the door, pushing it open and stepping into the warm scented room. Agatha and Coralline had turned down the bed, lit a scented oil burner and left some wine and plums for the newlyweds, Sansa swallowed without looking back, Podrick was in the room with her… she heard the door close.

"Your Grace." He said it so softly, so gently it made her heart leap.

"Pod… I'm your wife. You can call me Sansa."

"Sansa." The word fell from his lips like a prayer, like an oath he'd never break. She turned to him, full of trepidation and excitement. The fear she felt on her first wedding night wasn't there, she wasn't scared for Pod to touch her, she was scared she'd do 'it' wrong. Scared that what was under her dress wasn't as fair as everyone thought. There were tiny white scars that had bloomed on her hips, breasts and belly through puberty, a fine lace of white lines, and she had no idea if that was normal… there had been nobody to tell her. Her maids had never passed comment but why would they? She was their queen, their lady. Podrick and she had done nothing more than kiss since officially betrothed. And even then Pod was always restrained, always honourable, always chaste. She turned away from him again to pour some wine, to give her hands something to do. What if he was too honourable and she too shy and nothing happened, they just sat in the room in silence… what if it didn't fit, or if it hurt too much. She heard a thud and turned to see that Podrick was already shirtless and was hopping around on one foot trying to remove his boots, he looked almost like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't.

"Sit." She commanded with a smile, he obliged "let me" this was something she could do, this was something she'd seen her mother and father do a thousand times. As Pod perched on the end of her bed she knelt and unlaced his boots one at a time before sliding them off his feet, they did not stink as her fathers had. She remembered fondly how her mother would make a big show of how rotten his feet were and then she'd chase Arya and her with the boots.

With his feet bared she stood again, he was big and wide and mainly muscle but there was a little softness too, a little roll of flesh where his belly met breeches, his shoulders were defined and she noticed with some delight that he had little tiny white lines round his shoulders just like the ones on her hips, she reached out a finger and traced their pattern lazily. Pod stayed still, watching her intently, she withdrew her hand suddenly nervous again. Septa should have told her these things, her mother should have sat her down and explained how it started… not just the 'stick 'em with the pointy end' bit. She walked back to her wine, poured another glass and with shaking hands raised it to her lips. She didn't hear him walk towards her, the pounding of her own heart drowning out any noise.

"Sansa" he said her name again, this time deep, he said it into her hair as he stood flush behind her. She wondered if he'd become like Hodor, the only words falling from his mouth 'Sansa' in various tones and with various intents. She finished the drink and slammed it onto the table, panting slightly. His hands had found her hips and he was slowly balling her dress in his fists, hiking it up a handful at a time. When he finally came to the hem he gathered the fabric in his large hands and pulled it gently up, she raised her hands as she would have done for Agatha, though Agatha never stood this close to her or breathed this heavily on her neck and Agatha didn't make her ache in places she tried not to think about.

"Sansa" he placed a kiss on her shoulder, she was still in her underskirts, stockings, corset and smalls but she felt naked. He found the laces of her corset, undoing them one at a time punctuating each victory with another kiss on her shoulder. She trembled and for a second found it hard to breathe, he felt her sway slightly and so wrapped one arm safely around her belly, the other continuing its journey down the laces of her corset. She stilled as he undid the final wrung the only thing holding the material to her front was his hand, he let it drop. Sansa turned in his arms, more out of modesty than anything else, pressing her front to his at least made it invisible.

He pushed her gently back and she worried that already she'd done the wrong thing, but when she made to cover her bare chest with her arms he reached for them and gently held her at arm's length looking her over studiously, like he'd waited so long and now that he was finally here he had to take stock of everything. And as suddenly as he'd stopped to survey her it was over and she found herself squealing as he grabbed her hips and lifted her up and towards him, when her body was flush against his, his head buried in her neck her toes inches off the ground, he used one strongly muscled arm to hold her and the other to grab her leg and wrap it round him. Where one of her legs went the other soon followed. She was now wrapped round him, her underskirts hitched and the hooks of her stockings visible. He stumbled forward and eventually found the bed, they still hadn't kissed. They just clung, until she was pushed into the feather mattress and he was on top of her breathing heavily.

"My wife." He said as he leant forward and took her lips in his, his hands found her under skirts and he began the labour intensive task of trying to remove them without breaking their kiss. She giggled a little and he smiled down at her.

"Why on earth are you wearing so many clothes?" he asked with a chuckle as he shuffled down her body and knelt up, now straddling her knees.

"My septa always told me that a gift is all the more appreciated when well wrapped." She smiled and made to cover her breasts again, feeling exposed.

"Don't." he stopped her "I'm not covering mine, and mine aren't half as pretty as yours my Grace." She laughed at this, it was so silly but put her so at ease, as she laughed her chest jiggled and she noticed with some wonder that he now stared at her chest longingly. She shrugged a little coyly before wiggling ever so slightly, a shy grin had replaced her laughter. He found the waist of her skirts and tugged at them furiously, the small ivory button holding them up snapped and pinged across the bed landing forgotten in a far corner. All the self-imposed restraint, all the chaste kisses seemed to have worn on Pod and left a man driven wild, with her skirts finally removed only her small things, stockings and boots remained.

"I fear I'm at a disadvantage my lord" she wriggled beneath which made him groan and bite his lip "are you injured?" she asked noting his discomfort.

He shook his head "no my lady" he rolled off her, and began to unlace his britches, his hands shaking with haste. Her small hand moved to help but he stilled it " My lady, Sansa… I am…" Podrick would later tell Sansa, when they were much older and wiser, that at that moment he had never been more aroused or terrified at the same time. The very idea that she was his made him nearly burst, he held her hand in his… he feared if she touch him he may explode and make a fool of himself. "A bride must not trouble herself with the laces of breaches." He said as if there was some old rule, it wasn't he'd just made it up and but Sansa knew no better, her lips forming an 'oh' and her hands falling to her side again, she watched his face intently.

"My Lord" for he was _her_ lord "I am not accustomed to the act of love, but you are… if I do something wrong or bad… would you please tell me?" she had been trying to formulate this sentence since she poured the wine but only now found the brain clarity to voice her fears. He was her husband now, he wouldn't mock her… he loved her and he wanted her, she could see and feel that.

"My Lady the mere sight of you has near ended me, there is nothing you could do wrong." He said, as he tentatively yanked his breeches down, leaving him only in his long cloth, he kicked his feet out of the leather legs and knocked them to the floor with a final nudge of his foot.

"But my lord, perhaps…" she knelt, it took everything she had not to cover her body, she had been taught since a young age that her naked body was shameful. But the wildling women, they thought different they loved being naked, she saw more breasts in castle black than she probably would in her life time. "In my songs and books, it always ends before this part… I know you 'stick me with the pointy end' but I always thought… people have risked so much for love making, all the wars we fought were because people bedded those they shouldn't… and I just thought perhaps there was more to it than just… that."

"Oh… well yes it's much more than that." He was now sitting up in the bed beside her, his head resting on the head board his arousal evident. His tone, his grin, his boyish features… all of it emboldened her. 'I am a fucking queen' Sandor's voice in her head, unsettling and empowering at the same time.

"Pod… do you remember in Kings Landing, there was a painting in the Red Keep?" she shuffled closer to him.

"What one my lady?" he asked reaching for her running a finger down her arm, sending lightning bolt goose flesh across her skin.

"The one in Tyrion's study" she watched as the blush crept into his cheek, his smile widened.

"Yes my lady."

"I always wondered, if that would be something I would perhaps enjoy." She said as she tentatively placed her palms flat on his chest and lifted one leg over his body so that she straddled him, she didn't sit. There was still a distance between her most private of areas and the bulge that strained against his own small clothes. "If I sit will I hurt you?" she asked, her voice quieter. He shook his head, still smiling but with a fierceness in his eyes. She lowered herself tentatively and barely rested on him keeping much of her weight on her thighs. He grabbed her hips with a little force and pushed her down harder, not so that he entered her but so that she could feel the full force of him against her. He used his considerable strength to drag her slowly up the length of him which now lay flay against his stomach. Sansa felt like what lay between her legs had developed its own heart, she thrummed violently and she found it hard to breathe.

"there's that… for a start" he said from between gritted teeth, answering her previous question.

"what else is there Pod?" she asked breathily and he growled his answer as he flipped her so that she was now under him.

His hands grappled for her small clothes ripping the cotton aside and tossing them as far away as he could, an irrational part of his brain perhaps worrying they would return. Gently he let his fingers roam the areas of Sansa that of yet mostly lay untouched, she gasped and shuddered and trembled beautifully and he grinned with satisfaction, her left leg shuddering of its own accord.

"The first time may hurt my Grace." He said cautiously as he finally removed his own smalls and settled between her spread thighs.

"And after the first time?" she asked softly

"It will hurt less and please more."

"and how often do we plan on doing this?" she asked genuinely curious, what she had experienced thus far had her of the mind that she wanted to do nothing else for the rest of her life.

"Tonight? Or in general?" Pod countered as he kissed her chest and ground his pubic bone into her.

"In general." She gasped.

"every day." He responded nudging her again and kissing her gasps into his own mouth.

"won't you grow bored of me my lord?" she asked, wriggling against him, she noted that wriggling seemed to be the key.

"never… Sansa…" he kissed her longingly and placed his weight on his elbows so he could look her in the eye's "Our meetings since our betrothal, my demand for chaperone and restraint… it takes every single ounce of my honour to stop me from touching you, even before we were betrothed when I was just Ser Pod and you didn't see me… I would stand by you and would have to remind myself over and over that I could not touch you. All the times in Kings Landing when I stood so close and just wanted to reach out my hand just to offer you comfort. And now I can my Lady, because for some reason, be it necessity or love I care not but you picked me. And I knew if I started, if I kissed you too passionately or touched you too intimately… you make my heart thud and the rest of me… rigid." He laughed a little at this, but she was looking up at him sadly. She raised her hands and cupped his face.

"I saw you Pod… It was I who embraced you at Castle Black and I who kissed you in the Red Keep… I saw you and I felt things that I wasn't supposed to for you too." She kissed him and he lowered his body again, settling onto her gently

"what things?" he asked positioning himself to enter her, distracting her from the initial shock.

"A feeling here." She pointed to the very pit of her stomach, stroking his own lower abdomen at the same time, sending shivers coursing through him. She smiled coyly. "and here she ran her hand from her stomach to between her breasts her knuckles dragging up his own body. He grabbed her wandering hand and laced his fingers through hers pushing her fist into the mattress, he slowly did the same with the other and with a sudden jolt and flick of his hips he was inside her. She was glad he didn't warn her, being caught off guard she had been relaxed and perhaps this was why she wasn't feeling the intense pain she had expected. Uncomfortable? Yes… but not painful. She had felt pain and this was nothing. He remained still, tight inside then he rolled his hips experimentally at first. Her own hips tilted slightly looking to find the best positioning, for what exactly she wasn't entirely sure but she'd know it when she found it.

"are you in pain Sansa" he asked stilling, noting her intense expression and her lip clasped tightly in her teeth, she shook her head hastily and shifted her hip. She sighed, and her head lolled back. Whatever it was she had been seeking, it appeared she'd found it.


	12. Chapter 12

Tyrion

The imp watched his former wife carried off with a smile she'd never once displayed in his time married to her, Podrick seemed happy to even be close to her and that made Tyrion glad. A stable North meant a stable region, he'd never admit it to either queen but the South needed the North more than the other way around. The south had destroyed most of its forest lands years before and replaced them with fields, but the lands were frost bitten now… this winter was the harshest yet and only roots seemed viable. Which meant no bread… animals were still abundant but many lords didn't allow the small folk to hunt for more than birds. The North had a free hunt policy in the Winter years, anyone who lived under a Lord was free to hunt in his or her own district, a reward for a hard worked summer. Farmers in the North preserved and stored for years in preparation for the Winter, and when the snows fell every farm hand worth his salt turned to hunting and lumber. And Lumber was where the North had everyone beat. A small population combined with a conservationist spirit ensured the North would never be without wood, after loggers passed through a region small folk followed ripping up the old roots and replanting with seeds gathered in the summer. The trees of the north were hardy and at least half of all seeds sprouted anew and the small folk were happy as they now had the stump and root, valuable fuel. If the north decided to no longer trade their timber to the south, then the world would come to another standstill.

The south had been unprepared for this cold, they hadn't stockpiled enough wood…

"A raven has arrived for you My Lord." Samwell said quietly, handing Tyrion a tightly wound scroll and shaking him from his own thoughts. Tyrion read it with a wry smile before flinging it into a brazier.

"Your aunt has decided to visit Winterfell to congratulate your sister in person, she has travelled to the neck by Dragon her caravan and snow ploughs were waiting her there… she'll arrive in a week." Tyrion grinned at Jon, he missed his queen and how she could switch between playful and serious in the blink of an eye. Jon looked up through furrowed brows

"She's not going to try and make me go south again is she?"

"No, she knows there's no place in your heart for the south. She does wish you'd visit more though" Tyrion said seriously and he meant it, as much as his queen wished Jon would live with her in Kings Landing she knew it could not be. The boy was born for the snow, he melted in the south even on the coolest of days. His queen had oft wondered that perhaps while she could not be harmed by fire the fire itself lived within Jon. The cold never seemed to affect him, and he burned hot to the touch sometimes. The boy was ice and Fire combined, usually that left you with smoke and water but not with him. "and take a bride."

"I don't want a bride." Jon snapped, they'd been through this.

"Have you a touch of the Renly's?" The Imp asked, he had been assured otherwise by Sansa but one could never know.

"If I said yes would that mean I wouldn't have to marry?" Jon asked, suddenly bright eyed.

"No it would just mean we'd marry you off to Margaery Tyrell and find you both some boys on the side" The imp topped up the bastards cup with a chuckle as he watched the other hand flop to the bench.

"people can say you're not Arya's brother as much as they like, I don't believe it for a second." Tyrion allowed a grin to crack his broken face and noted with delight that Jon too was now grinning.

"She was wonderful, the way she ensured Sansa's dignity… they loved it." Tyrion had found himself rather fascinated by the Stark girls and their ability to conjure love and loyalty from almost everyone. His queen was invincible to fire, had three dragons, a massive army of drones and was known to use all three… the Royals in the North had none of this, they held their seats out of nothing but Love and no need for fear… ah that's what the North needed the South for, Sansa could sit pretty while the threat of her friend with Dragons loomed behind her. Tyrion smiled, perhaps it wasn't all so one sided.

"You look like you're having an inner monologue." Arya stark was standing in front of him, her little sword in one hand her other clutching a goblet.

"You look stunning." He responded honestly "though you always do, don't you… in one way or another."

"Well I certainly do like to stun." She said wistfully. The lords were pushing tables aside and making room to dance, a flute player struck up a northern reel. "I won't dance." She said resolutely.

"Why on earth not? You'll be the belle." Tyrion said a little sadly, Arya's ugly duckling transformation was his favourite kind of court intrigue. He liked to watch to see how the newly blossomed girls reacted to their novel power, some abused it, some got abused and some were clever.

"All I need is for one of those drunk lords to try and pull at my ribbons… what if my dress falls down!" Arya's face scrunched adorably.

"I'll cut the fuckers head off as a lesson." Jon said tamely but with clear intent in his eyes.

"Dance with lord Baratheon, You'll defend our Princess won't you?" Tyrion stirred the pot a little.

"I don't know how to dance my lord." Gendry responded through tight vocal chords.

"Of course you do, you wrap her in your arms and swing her about… The northerners don't do the prancing of the south they fling and spin. It's very energetic." Tyrion made it sound so simple, nodding towards the lords who were currently spinning the giggling serving wenches. "see"

"I'm…" The frowning princess did not get to finish her protest as a young Lordling from the neck, one of Edmure's wards had approached and tapped her audaciously on the shoulder. Tyrion watched with interest, the princess was still armed.

"My Grace might I request the first dance?" his voice had the nasally quality of a boy who'd spent too long in his sick bed as a child.

"You can request all you like Frey, you're not getting." She brushed his intruding hand aside and marched around the table.

"That table won't protect you My Grace." Tyrion called nodding towards the groups of likely lads who were currently eyeing her like a prized filly.

"My Grace might I…" Another lad, a guard… blushing profusely and apparently being egged on by some of his brothers was stammering in front of the infuriated Arya, she sighed dramatically as he spat out his invitation to dance.

"I cannot, I'm afraid I have promised my first dance to Lord Baratheon and he is still eating aren't you my lord?" her eye's fell on the knight who had been pushing the plate away, the man nodded without hesitation on hearing her words and selected an already picked turkey leg. The guard left the dais sullenly and Tyrion noticed the Wolf girls furiously stomping foot.

"My grace until you actually dance they will continue to ask." Tyrion added with a helpful tone.

"Right. Fine. Come Lord Gendry you are to spin me round so that I can drink my wine in peace." She tugged his arm and Tyrion noted with delight how the man mountain obeyed her every command instantly. In his few conversations with the Princess about her time with the smith she had revealed that perhaps she had been the leader of their little band of runaway boys.

Lord Gendry Baratheon did as Tyrion suggested, he wrapped his massive war hammer hands around the slight Arya Stark and spun her easily, her feet never touched the ground. He lifted from the waist and spun her back and forth. Tyrion was sure she was shouting 'put me down you idiot boy' but the crowd were cheering and the music intensified. The smith lord seemed egged on by this and lifted her higher the crowd roared in appreciation and only when she kicked his chest quite violently did he let her down. Tyrion was sure none of the lords saw the kick, it had been swift and precise.

"I'm rather exhausted after that I don't think I will dance again for quite some time." She shouted to the gathered men who were eager to spin her, they groaned "oh don't be silly there are wenches a plenty to spin!" she called and the men cheered.

"Remind me to give the wenches a bonus of some sort for this." She said as she approached lord Tyrion her Bastard Lord trailing behind her.

"They seem to be enjoying themselves." Jon nodded at the happily squealing maids being wrapped in the arms of old Lords with wives back home in frozen keeps.

"All we need is half of the staff pregnant or betrothed." The princess grumped, taking a seat next to Tyrion, Lord Gendry beside her. "I hate dancing."

"Don't you call your sword play water dancing." Tyrion asked, he would continue his own private battle to win the friendship of Princess Arya. He imagined they would make jolly good drinking partners.

"That's different, I get to stab people… and I don't get hoisted in the air like a prized kill" She slammed another empty goblet of wine onto the bench indicating a refill to a small serving boy, reaffirming Tyrion's supposition.

"I didn't want to stand on your toes." Gendry shot back, his voice all innocence but his grin wicked. It had been the first real personality the Lord had seen from this Bastard born high blood.

"I was so high you could see my toes 'Idiot boy'."

Tyrion stopped their tiff in its tracks with some less biting words. "Do you know what your father declared from this very hall Gendry?" he asked, digging his spoon back into the pot of court intrigue preparing to make waves. Sansa had only said that she meant for them to be allowed to see each other before plans were put into action… well they'd seen each other, now for action. Arya looked ashen and took a long draught of wine, schooling her expression, she knew what was coming. Gendry shook his head.

"He said 'my son shall marry your daughter Ned Stark', isn't that interesting?" the lord asked all innocence.

"He said that in the crypt." Arya corrected him.

"He said it many times that day, including at the feast." Tyrion countered

"Have you given any thought to marriage Lord Baratheon?" Tyrion plodded on as if his questions were mere polite inquiries, his tone decidedly light and high.

"No… I mean… Well no I didn't think I would have many prospects… but now" Tyrion noted how the Bastard lord's fingers flitted minutely, ever so slightly towards Arya.

"Now you are high born, and a Lord. You can have the pick of the litter my lord. The southern queen has a whole retinue of Tyrell girls as ladies in waiting, I'm sure she'd gladly send you a match." The 'imp' was most definitely at play.

"Yes I'm sure they'll enjoy watching you polish your helmet." Arya smiled angelically as she said it, she clearly was very much in control of all her faculties. Tyrion flicked a small smile, Jon had spit another goblet and Gendry was glaring at her with one eyebrow raised.

"I know what that means now" Gendry said with no humour in his voice.

"Oh…" Arya grinned "And what does it mean?" her face was a picture of naivety but there was something about her posture and tone which screamed 'deviousness'. Tyrion read in their held glance that this was something from their history, ah yes he'd stirred up something. "Is this from your adventures, Princess Arya made mention of your helmet many… many times" Two can play that game, Tyrion set his own features into wide eyed innocence and Jon looked between the two as though watching a joust.

"Yes, Sir Gendry was fond of getting his bull helmet out and giving it a good polishing on our journey, I believe it relaxed him." Touché, the girl delivered back to him with complete ease. Her lord was looking a little redder if not just a little bit amused.

"well we all must have our hobbies mustn't we?" Tyrion shot a quick grin to Gendry.

"She told everyone we met on the road that all I did was polish my helmet, and because I was young and foolish I'd nod along, thinking I was being praised for keeping my armour clean. I never understood why everyone sniggered…" The smith didn't look vexed, he had a silly far away grin on his face.

"It was a trying time my lord, I took my jollies where I could." Arya nudged the mountainous knight gently and he obliged her with a mock wince.

"It is so heart-warming to see two friends reunited." This was genuine for Tyrion, there was something in their bond that warmed the Imp's well shielded heart.

"Please don't get mushy my lord, I was coming to respect you." Arya shot as she side eyed the Imp.

"Excuse an old fool's sentimentality." He responded before turning his head to Jon and whispering "But I do enjoy a love story." Jon shook his head in solidarity no doubt with Arya, but he smiled when he caught sight of his sister and the smith laughing together.

"You leave them be." Jon whispered back in hushed tones.

"Think on this Mr mopey, the more I focus on them the less I focus on marrying you off… a definitive eventuality might I add." Tyrion uttered.


	13. Chapter 13

Arya

Despite her best efforts, she had been forced to dance with at least three young men, only one of whom got notably handsy. She had dealt with his wandering digits by swiftly grabbing them and bending them in a direction the god s had never intended, he'd fallen to his knees before her with an almighty roar that had stopped the revellers in their tracks. Guards sprung to their princess's side; "It is treasonous to grab your royal princess' arse, do you understand that boy?" Arya had asked of the man ten years her senior who was currently sobbing in her clutches, he had nodded and she had released him only to watch him then be dragged from the hall legs first by the guards on duty. Gendry had yawned three times in a row and rubbed his eyes furiously, she'd had to order him to bed after he seemed determined to stay by her side… as a result he'd missed her "arse" incident.

"The party is concluding my grace, you can retire." Tyrion said from somewhere near her elbow.

"Really? I promised Sansa I'd do my family duty…"

"My Grace, you don't have to wait until every last gin soaked Lord has had his fill. You leave them with ale and wenches, that is more than generous." The imp lead her by the elbow "I shall accompany you to the keep."

"Plan to defend me?" she asked scathingly.

"Heavens no, It's I who need the defending!" he responded quickly leading her to the large doors, she nodded her goodbyes to the loutish Lords as she went.

"If we are to be friends my lord… Please don't make things complicated with Gendry." She had tried not to sound so pitiful, but she'd had a knot in her stomach since her sister had mentioned his arrival in the Gods Wood and it hadn't gone away. She wasn't sure what had her so scared, but she recognised that the fear was there nonetheless.

"I wouldn't dream of it my Grace… I might tease on occasion but I'd never complicate."

"I don't suppose I can tempt you to curtail the teasing?" she probed further.

"And deny a very small man his only joy?"

Arya was glad to be rid of the Imp at the door to the great keep, she was even gladder to be returning to her own rooms and not her father's solar. The ribbons had begun to dig into her flesh, her hair follicles felt cramped and her feet sore, she wanted nothing more than to allow her maid to unlace her before sleeping for at least ten hours. Her plans were halted momentarily when her foot came into contact with something soft yet unyielding on the dark floor outside of Robb's old room. For a second she wondered if it were one of the wolves but realised not when the shape whispered "Oi"

"Lyle… is that you on the floor?" she asked her hand on the hilt of needle until her suspicions confirmed.

"Keep your voice down Grace, my lord is sleeping in there." Lyle uttered in a hushed tone as he leapt to his feet silently.

"Gendry?"

"Lord Baratheon yes, queen Sansa had him moved into the family keep to make room in the guest house… for drunk Lords." He sniggered a little as he kicked his little makeshift bed back into shape.

"You've got a bed Lyle, why are you sleeping outside his door?" Arya asked, cupping his chin and using her thumb to wipe away a sticky glob of sugared plum that had adhered itself firmly to the little boy's face.

"I'm making myself indispensable your Grace, his Lordship'll need a pageboy or a man servant, someone who understands Winterfell." Lyle said seriously, his tone still hushed.

"Very smart Lyle." She made to walk away.

"My lord asked where your room was, should I not have told him?" he blurted out in a rushed whisper, his predicament had clearly been eating at him.

"It's fine that you told him Lyle, help him with anything he needs. If he's living with the family, he should know where we are situated." She smiled reassuringly.

"That's what I thought. You should be off to bed my grace, don't want to be caught lingering outside a young lord's room do you?" Lyle giggled.

Princess Arya couldn't help the smile that spread across her more often than not sullen face "Lyle if you were anyone else I'd have you clapped in irons" she pinched his chin one more time before continuing her quest to reach her inner sanctum.

"Arya." A voice stopped her, her brow furrowed suddenly and she turned her head to see a nervously grinning Sansa.

"Shouldn't you be with your husband?" Arya asked, sudden worry seeping into her psyche. The Stark girls had been betrayed and hurt enough times to ensure thoughts of misdeeds where never far from their minds "Are you well Sansa?" she asked tentatively.

"Very" Sansa grinned as she moved towards Arya "He's asleep." She paused nervously "Could I sit with you while you get prepared for sleep?"

"Of course, you used to do the same with mother?" Arya pushed open the door to reveal a smiling Coralline, a roaring fire and large bath full of hot water.

"My Grace, I didn't know the queen would be joining you… would you like me to send for another tub?" Coralline asked with a low bow.

"Not necessary, my sister will be helping me ready myself for slumber" Arya grinned puckishly at Sansa who had vivid memories of a screeching Arya refusing to have her hair combed in the bath they would share as young children "You go take the rest of the evening off, there's still drink and food in the hall" she stopped at the disappointed expression on her maid's face "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow!"

"Thank you my Grace, goodnight" she left quietly and Arya shot her eyes to Sansa again.

"Why are you not in some rutting embrace with your husband?" Arya asked again

"We were" Sansa giggled "But he fell asleep after a few times, he said he'd been awake for almost two days with nerves" she giggled more as she moved to help her sister unlace from the complicated network of ribbons holding her dress together. "You have returned late, spending time with Lord Baratheon?" Sansa asked unthreading the top layer with ease.

"No" Arya took a breath to reign in her tone, she couldn't snap every time he was mentioned… it was too obvious. "He was overly tired, I sent him off to bed some time ago." Arya shuffled and allowed the dress to pool at her feet, there were few undergarments given its Braavosi origin. She kicked her small cloth off and stepped into the bath with a sigh, it was only after she sat the she noted her sister's mild amusement.

"What?" she asked as she dunked her head once, allowing her hair to get soaked.

"You remove your underthing's the exact same way you did when you were five! A lady does not kick her undergarments across a room." Sansa chuckled before pulling a stool over to sit at Arya's head a brush in her hand.

"I don't know what you imagine you're going to be doing here your highness but ripping my hair out is not on the list." Arya stated plainly.

"You're not at all uncomfortable being naked, are you?" Sansa asked, her voice ponderous and airy.

"Not around you no… why should I be? Have you gone all Lannister?" Arya snorted at her own crass joke as she slopped a linen cloth over her face in a bid to cleanse away the mass of humanity she'd been exposed to.

"You were like that as a child, always the first to strip down and jump in a river. Mother hated it." Sansa ignored her sister's grievances and picked up a piece of her hair and began un-braiding it gently.

"I wasn't mother's favourite" Arya responded a little sadly.

"Oh, nonsense you were everyone's favourite!" Sansa exhaled dramatically "It drove me insane, I was well behaved and sweet but somehow everyone loved my rascal sister more." She moved her hands more carefully when Arya winced.

"Mother liked you best though, you're just like her." Arya sighed "Like how you got me to wear a dress and behave myself. That was very like mother" she smiled a silly smile at her sister and almost felt five again, the bath for a moment felt like it may be capable of wiping away all her sin.

"Well given my present motherly role, I'd like to say something… Arya, I worry that you, even less than I, have been educated in… the ways of womanhood." Arya snorted and judging by Sansa's face, laughter had not been the response she had expected of this loaded statement.

"Sansa I know… about being a woman. I'm aware of how babies are made… and how they are not made. I'm even aware of several, how do I put this delicately, manoeuvres that are pleasing in the bed to all involved." Her queen, her sister did not look pleased.

"Arya, we haven't spoken of this because as ladies we are encouraged to bear our shame in silence but… In the times of war men can take…" Arya stopped her petrified sister with a suddenly raised hand.

"Sansa no man has forced himself upon me!" she assured her sister "Well they never succeeded."

"How do you know of these things then, are you still a maiden true?" Sansa was sounding more and more like her mother with every word.

"Yes." Arya said slowly, she wasn't proud of it though "Not because I have to be mind you, but because I haven't found anyone I've liked enough to let them…" she let the sentence hang in the air because vocalising her true fear was far too much of a share, even for her usual candid self. What she feared most of all was the idea of someone being 'inside' her, and it was more of an intellectual fear than a physical one. As a member of the many faced she'd, for all intents and purposes, inhabited several people, and one night an existential crisis about her own body being inhabited had befallen her and she'd never quite shaken it.

"Then how are you so confident in your knowledge of these things?" Sansa asked, attempting to sound light and sisterly. Arya gnawed her lip for a second, she had two options she could either lie and tell her sister that she had heard of bed play from the women in the mummers show or she could be honest, with a deep breath she chose honesty. She wanted a closeness with someone, and Sansa of late had opened up that opportunity for her. They could be the kind of sisters she'd always dreamed they could be, honest and caring "As an assassin I took a job in a brothel" Sansa gasped "as a sheet girl not a whore. I saw things and heard things, the man who ran the whore house wasn't a kind man and one night he made a grab for me so I poked his eyes out" Sansa gasped again "Men who hurt little girls don't deserve to see the world."

"I agree" Sansa said nodding adamantly.

"Anyway, I did the job I was sent to do and then left, my maidenhood intact… there's a joke in there somewhere." She tried to smile but found the effort too great.

"I'm so sorry that you had to walk that path, but I also know that it was necessary" Sansa sighed a sorry sigh and stroked her little sisters wet head "I'm so truly sorry… If I hadn't lied for… Joffrey, If I hadn't told her…" Sansa's voice caught in her throat as her eyes welled.

"Sansa, don't cry. You don't think they'd have still tried to kill us all? Of course they would, father was father and Cersei was a monster. You were a little girl who was doing exactly as she'd been taught, it's not your fault." Arya cooed gently, she believed every word she said, evil doesn't hinge on the actions of a child, evil will always make itself known. "What was it like?" Arya asked quickly in an attempt to change the subject, Sansa had said she wanted to talk to her sister about womanhood.

"what?" Sansa asked, bewildered by the sudden clumsy segue

"You said I wasn't educated on womanhood, well you were partially right… nobody has ever told me what it's actually like, being bedded, what is it like?" She asked, Sansa let out an almost affronted laugh.

"Uncomfortable at first but in the long run a very worthwhile endeavour. I know you say you don't want to be a wife but I believe now that there are up sides." Sansa grinned as she attempted to push back the overwhelming guilt which had suddenly sprung, no doubt as a result of a very emotional day.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N : Just a quick word to say that I've posted two chapters tonight because they were very short ones, also I just wanted to thank you for reading and to encourage you to leave a wee review if the spirit takes you.

Jon

The knot in Jon's stomach grew as the assembled group waited anxiously for the arrival of the southern queen and her party. The last time royals from the south had visited Winterfell all-out war had befallen the land, and now here they were Starks and a Baratheon waiting to greet his aunt the Targaryen queen. If you'd told him this, all those years ago, when he'd been a boy running to the wall he'd have laughed or called you mad.

The keep had been busy since the big wedding, it had taken some days for all the lords to leave and return to their own homes, the townsfolk also seemed reticent to end the festivities. Spirits had been raised and it appeared unlikely that they would drop any time soon. Sansa floated on a cloud of bliss, she ooh'd and ahh'd as she walked around Winterfell wrapped in the embrace of her king. On the other side of the spectrum there was Arya and her unknowingly betrothed Gendry, the pair had gone from jovial comradery at the feast to incredibly awkward the day after. The smith knight seemed restless, eyes were on him and he wasn't sure how to interact so he'd shut down almost entirely like a fish out of water… Jon noted that Arya for her part had taken his silence as a direct slight against her and was now doing her upmost to ignore the Smith Lord. Jon sighed as he caught sight of Gendry stood behind Arya, he appeared to open his mouth as if to say something before changing his mind and closing it again. Jon sympathised, he was a bastard and a secret son of royalty too… if there was anyone who could empathise with Gendry's sudden change in fortune it was Jon and so he resolved to talk to the smith as soon as possible.

"Here they come" Sansa announced excitedly, a large white and gold carriage cresting the hill with fur covered riders leading the charge.

When the caravan finally stopped, seven large carriages and thirty riders were now filling the main courtyard of Winterfell. The door to the main conveyance opened and a large man stepped out, he reached back and helped the queen step forth, she was dressed entirely in white furs she smiled happily at him and waved. Jon couldn't help but grin back, she was family.

"Your Highness welcome to Winterfell" Sansa said clearly.

"Your highness you do me a great honour." Daenerys responded warmly before shifting her gaze to Arya "Well, it is a great honour to meet you Princess Arya. I was momentously warmed by news of your return and I've heard nothing but glowing testimony from Tyrion" she shocked everyone by embracing Arya "We are family, however messy the bonds." Her gaze shifted again "My sweet nephew Jon, I have missed you terribly" she embraced Jon too.

"Ladies!" she called back to the carriage "Come meet my nephew" Jon groaned, she wasn't being subtle about this in the slightest in fact she was being downright obtuse. A stream of giggling girls in varying shades and styles of fur poured from the large carriage, they were all young and pretty and blushing. Margaery Tyrell was the last to step down, she was not smiling or giggling, she looked older and more serious. She shot him a look which he felt was full of intent before turning a smiling face to his sister Sansa, he watched as the Tyrell girl walked steadily towards her before dropping a very deep courtesy "Your Grace" she said solemnly.

"By the Gods rise Margaery" Sansa said breathily, she looked close to tears, Jon knew that the Tyrell woman had done everything in her power to help and protect Sansa when she'd been trapped in Kings Landing. "I have missed you." Sansa said before wrapping the girl in an embrace.

"Let us go to the Winter Hall, so these ladies can warm up, shall we?" Tyrion declared, he and Jon had both noted the Queen of the South trembling.

Jon took the mayhem of the servants unpacking and the women chatting to pull Gendry aside "Can we talk?" he asked quietly, the Smith Lord nodded wordlessly and followed as Jon walked back to the still bustling courtyard.

"Are you uncomfortable here at Winterfell?" Jon decided to be blunt, given that he lacked any tact this was always his only option.

"I'm very grateful for…" Jon stopped the boy in his tracks.

"I Know you are grateful Gendry Baratheon, but are you comfortable… you've stopped talking which my youngest sister seems to have taken very personally and you seem like you don't know what to do with yourself. Is this accurate?" Jon reasoned that without a formal education Gendry, like his friends in the Watch, may lack the skills to express exactly what they wanted.

"yes, milord that's right." Gendry responded looking more than a little sheepish. "I've never not worked, I've always known my place and even when it felt like I didn't belong I had the forge."

"Well then Lord Gendry I shall inform our armourer that he will be getting some assistance. Given your current status he'll more than likely just leave you to your own work but at least you'll feel less out of place."

Jon smiled smugly as he marched from the winter hall hours later, he had helped Gendry who was now at least smiling if not talking, he'd done his part and spoken to several young ladies, he had cheered Arya up and assured his aunt he would visit after winter and attempt to fly a dragon, all in all everything was going well for Jon… and if Arya married the Baratheon perhaps his own pending nuptials could pend for a little longer. When he pushed the door to his private room open he was shocked to see it already occupied, he quickly drew his sword and took an aggressive stance.

"They weren't wrong when they said you don't often bring company up here" Margery Tyrell said softly as she turned from the window to look at him.

"What are you doing in here Lady…" he stopped, he was never sure what to call her.

"Still Tyrell, the high septa said given that _none_ of my weddings were consummated I've technically never been married." She sighed a little sadly before batting her eyelashes "and as for what I'm doing here I come with a proposition." The set of her shoulder became resolute as she looked at him firmly, it made the hair on his neck prickle uncomfortably.

"It's really not appropriate for you to be in here without a chaperone, if we are found…" Jon stopped at the sight of one of her perfectly manicured eyebrows raising slowly.

"Jon, I am a thrice widowed two and twenty-year-old maid with a reputation which spans the seven kingdoms and beyond. Quite frankly it would be more shocking if I wasn't found in your room." She reasoned with logic he found hard to argue with. He'd heard of her reputation from soldiers and maids, he doubted the legitimacy of most of the claims. One story involving her and a horse was completely out of the question, given the dimensions… he shook his head to dislodge the list of rumours he'd heard about Lady Margaery.

"What do you want Lady Tyrell?" he asked, eager to get the woman out of his room. She intimidated him, and made his skin itch.

"I want you to pick me, your aunt will ask you to pick one of her 'litter' as a wife before she leaves. I want you to pick me." She pulled the heavy fur coat she was wearing a little tighter around her despite the room being rather balmy.

"I'm not picking anyone." Jon responded resolutely "I'm a man of the Watch"

"You're not any more my lord, and if you've got a touch of the Renly's…" he stopped her.

"I'm not interested in bedding men." He ground out.

"As I hear it you're not interested in bedding anyone, and that is fine My Lord. But your aunt will insist and the Queen gets what she wants…" Margaery paused and took a small step towards Jon who suddenly felt like prey "I will be honest with you Jon Snow, I need you to pick me. You are known for your heroism so take this opportunity to be a hero I beg you."

"are you in danger?" he asked suddenly.

"I am hated in the south; in Kings Landing I am akin to the King Slayer. I opened the gates to the forces in the North, I am a traitor to the South." She sighed heavily.

He remembered her frightened face when she'd unlatched a service entrance to allow them their first wave, her shaking hands… but she had no other option, Cersei had had her locked up and was looking to kill her. She had to escape "It was very brave of you."

"I'm a brave woman, though that's not something we are supposed to be proud of. Before you reject me, I'd appreciate it if I were allowed to make my case." He nodded and she cleared her throat "You have to marry My Lord, it is necessary for you to take up a keep in the North, without a wife and the possibility of heirs this is impossible." He made to talk, to rebut her assertion but she continued "Castle Cerwyn has been abandoned since the Bolton's raid, no one has come forward to claim it. It is half a day's ride from Winterfell, and as the closest ally to Sansa it'll be in her interest to fill it with a trustworthy lord. Right now, she wants to place you at the neck but if you suggest Castle Cerwyn she will accept, it will take at least three years to rebuild which means you can stay here with your sisters… as for my part in all this… I am agreeable My lord, I will not be bothersome, I will not force you to love me or fawn over me, the other girls on offer are young and full of dreams of romance this will grow very tiresome very quickly… I am already friends with your queen I can offer her council, be helpful. You needn't love me or even want me all that much, all you need do is put a baby in me once every few years." He made to talk again, though he wasn't sure what he was going to say but the girl before him continued her pitch growing more anxious, more desperate "I cannot return to the south, I have no prospects, people think I am cursed." She took another breath "and as I understand it, you believe that you are cursed" her voice softened "Well doesn't that seem like a match made by the gods, two cursed souls One prepared to never marry who now must and one who was prepared to do nothing but marry but can't despite trying three times."

"You don't want me." Jon hadn't meant to sound so self-pitying and morose but he had, she was right, he was cursed. An undead soul, a play thing of the gods.

"I have been married to a man who fucked my brother, a man who was the product of his mother fucking her brother and a small boy who again was the product of incest… you Jon Snow are a catch, and barring you finding me physically repulsive I see no reason why you can't save me?" she tilted her head to one side, all desperation gone from her voice, her mouth stretching into a full smile. Jon once again felt like trapped prey, he swallowed hard which made her smile wider. The floor length fur coat she had been holding so tightly to her body was suddenly being pulled open, to reveal… nothing. She was completely and fully naked, he couldn't stop his eyes from scanning her briefly what he saw was perfection and it made him nervous, but still he didn't speak. He didn't tell her to leave and she seemed to be taking his silence as invitation, stepping closer still to the suddenly boyish Jon. She reached wordlessly for his hand and lifted it, placing it gently onto one of her breasts, he still didn't resist 'Say something' his brain screamed but what could he say, it had been so long since he'd been near a naked woman and he was suddenly realising he missed it. He missed skin on skin contact, that heat that could only be aroused by another person touching you. She raised her other hand and placed it palm down on his steadily growing erection, he did make a noise that was something between a squeak and a feminine gasp she grinned "we can rule out you being 'physically repulsed' then" she said sweetly before dropping a slow bend and picking up her coat, pulling it back on, covering her perfection.

"Pick me Jon Snow" she said softly before dropping a lingering kiss on his cheek and leaving the hand of the North in a very unsatisfied state.

"I need to go swing my sword at something." Jon groaned before fleeing from his room towards the court yard and a wooden dummy who would soon be no more than chippings.


	15. Chapter 15

Arya

Arya liked the Dragon queen a lot, she was funny and when they were alone she didn't demand formalities. She, Sansa and the Targaryen had taken to enjoying private lunches in her father's Solar, the southern party had been there a week and intended to stay only one more, Arya was shocked to find that she would miss the silver haired woman already.

"You must come to Kings Landing with Jon when winter is over, you can meet my dragons. I have a feeling they'd like you." The southern queen smiled as she sipped her hot tea.

"Oh, I'd like that very much, can I?" Arya looked to her own queen and more importantly her older sister.

"Only if you're married to the currently mute Smith you had me send for." Sansa quipped, causing her southern counterpart to laugh.

"I didn't think you'd find him." Arya had said these words a million times, but it didn't seem to have any effect.

"I think your young man is very handsome, even if his father did slaughter my family." Daenerys said with a quirked eyebrow, Arya was amazed at how the young queen was so capable of taking all that had been done to her and letting it go so easily.

"if it makes you feel better, I think Gendry hates his father just as much." Arya said with a shrug.

"Oddly it does"

"If we all cut off the family members of those who tried to kill us… we'd have no friends." Sansa stated, drawing raucous laughter from both of her dining mates. "But really Arya, if you are to marry Lord Baratheon you must talk to him." Her voice motherly and serious again, Arya squirmed.

"He is an idiot bull headed boy." She stated plainly.

"What has he done?" Sansa sighed wearily, already knowing the answer.

"After your wedding, I thought it would be less uncomfortable but the next morning he was strange and wouldn't look at me and then when I tried to talk to him he stammered and that made me feel uncomfortable and so I started behaving strangely… we were friends once, he doesn't know he's been brought here to marry me! What on earth has he got to feel uncomfortable about?" Arya slammed her cup of milk onto the table furiously, she was beyond frustrated and after spending a week watching the southern girls fawn over Gendry and him TALK to them she was also beyond livid. "It doesn't matter anyway because at the rate he's going he'll end up betrothed to Flippy or Dippy."

"Philippa or Daphne" Daenerys corrected, hiding the smile at the jibe towards her ladies. "Have you thought that perhaps he doesn't look at you because you intimidate him" the queen of the south asked, buttering a slice of toast with complete precision.

"You think I scare him?" Arya considered this, it wasn't that unheard of.

"Not scare, intimidate, you are a powerful and very beautiful girl who refuses to play at courtship the usual way. I imagine if I was a young man who was attracted to you it would be very hard to know quite how to approach the situation. You my grace are a little puzzle." The queen of the south's tone was a picture of complete authority.

"She's right." Sansa chimed in.

"Gendry isn't attracted to me! Sansa… when he and I were friend's I was a dirty little boy, that's what he sees when he looks at me."

"how could you possibly know what he is seeing Arya?" Sansa sighed wearily.

"Perhaps princess Arya you are projecting what you see in yourself onto poor Lord Gendry's eyes." The mother of Dragon's nodded resolutely and Arya couldn't find it in herself to argue, the silver haired woman was not wrong. In Arya's mind, she wasn't a woman, she was a horse faced little boy, it is why she hated wearing dresses… she thought everyone would see her as a fraud or worse, a fool…

"I see" Daenerys had clearly taken her silence for agreement "well it appears our problem lies with you Arya, you are confident in your skills with a sword and your wit, it would be incredibly sad if you were never made master of your beauty."

"I think you're very beautiful" Sansa chimed in helpfully.

"Oh, shut up Sansa you're just saying that because you feel bad for calling me horse faced all those years ago." Arya snapped and instantly regretted it, it was not the done thing to squabble in front of foreign dignitaries, however friendly the relationship. Sansa for her part looked unfazed and merely rolled her eyes at her sister

"I do feel sad but it's not why I'm saying it; didn't any boys try and court you in Braavos?" Sansa asked.

"Yes, but they just saw a lonely foreign girl and wanted to take advantage, besides I didn't have time for boys' I was… training." She cleared her throat, this conversation had taken an all too invasive turn she groaned out loud "You were right Sansa I know nothing about being a woman."

"I didn't say that Arya."

"Well of course… Arya you can fight… Sansa and I cannot, we can command others to fight for us but we are not trained with a sword and so we have had to find ways of controlling men without a blade. You have not, you've rarely had to rely on your womanly wiles at all… I believe like sword fighting it can be taught."

"In a day?" Arya asked hopefully, Daenerys merely laughed standing and walking to the door.

"Daphne fetch me three of my finest dresses." She called and Arya heard a squeaked response and scurrying feet.

"You're not going to try and… make me over, are you?" Arya asked nervously.

"Heavens no my dear sweet child, exposure is what I'm after. You hate wearing dresses because it forces you into a role you have not properly trained for. Did you play female roles as a Mummer?" Arya was surprised the queen knew about this but suspected Tyrion had told her everything.

"Yes."

"And you would wear a dress?"

"Yes."

"but you felt alright because you were playing a role?" Daenerys Targaryen continued, as though she had sliced Arya opened and could read her insides.

"Yes"

Sansa laughed suddenly and loudly, Deanery's smiled at her knowingly "Arya my sweet little sister, we're all playing a role! That is what life is!" she continued to laugh. "Do you think when I go to negotiate with old men that I am brimming with self-assurance? No! I have to tell myself over and over again "I am a queen", and I play the part of queen because it is the best thing for the people my father loved and it honours our parents and keeps us all safe!"

"Your sister, the Queen in the North is correct Arya, we are all, all of us cast in a role and we can either play it or run from it… your role up until now has been a strong lone wolf, preserving yourself and doing what needed to be done." Daenerys smiled empathetically "and now you have been thrust into a new role, a princess. My darling girl no wonder you are a wreck" the queen smiled, a smile that told Arya she was about to hear something very clever "You've not been given the script" Sansa applauded at this quip from her southern counterpart. "And besides you do have feminine wiles, I've seen you use them… you just don't know you're doing it." The Southern queen smiled kindly at Arya, Daphne was suddenly at their side holding out three beautiful low cut flowing dresses.

"You looked beautiful in your ribbon dress at the wedding" Sansa said as she eyed the shimmering fabric "were you very uncomfortable?" Arya nodded, she had been, she'd been so aware of her bare skin and the feminine cut, fearful that she was unprotected and that someone would try and disrobe her. Vulnerable was the word that accurately summed up her feelings that night.

"put this on" The mother of dragons pushed a white cotton dress into her hands she nodded towards the wooden screen in the corner of the Solar and Arya nodded. She would have argued usually but she saw the logic in the southern queen's argument. She must at least learn to play princess, then she might feel a little more confident in her actions. Either that or run away, for good… but she couldn't lose her family again, more importantly she couldn't lose herself again.

When she stepped back out from the screen Sansa beamed at her, the garment barely covered her breasts the leather straps that were supposed to hold the swathes of fabric to her body were too loose "come here" Daphne, who had remained in the room said kindly. She grabbed a strap and pulled it taught making Arya gasp slightly "Sorry, her Grace likes it tight" she whispered as she pulled the three straps around her torso and the two on her arms, one after the other. Swathes of Arya's slightly duskier Stark skin were still visible; the long strip between her breasts and the skin from armpit to hips were on display. The mother of Dragons reached up and unclasped the tight buns Arya's hair had been pulled into, allowing her long locks to hang loose "Lovely" she smiled maternally at Arya, who still didn't feel lovely. She felt silly. "Young Arya your role is to play a princess, a woman of the North who knows what she wants and gets it. Chin up." The southern queen directed "straight backed like you are about to enter into a duel" Arya understood this, she pulled herself to her full height and squared her shoulders.

"My Grace she looks…" Daphne started but seemed lost for words.

"My child whether you accept it or not it is in your best interest to know you are very beautiful… as much as you try to hide it under your breeches and sword play…" Daenerys stopped as though she'd suddenly realised something "Lyanna Stark, the girl the world was torn apart for. I have been told by many that you are her image… The girl my brother died for." She sighed sadly "That Arya is how beautiful you are."

Arya felt uncomfortable under the gaze of these women and the weight of their compliments, she allowed herself to be shuffled toward the polished brass in the far corner "look at yourself" the queen of the south said in voice that almost felt like it came from within Arya "really look Arya, don't see what you think others see just see what is there" and Arya looked and she saw and while she still felt her face was odd and her body too small she was not ugly, or boyish. She looked like a girl, a pretty girl, a girl a boy could like. "You will keep this dress" The queen of the South whispered happily.

"We should walk past her boy!" Daphne squealed clutching her hands excitedly.

"my boy?" Arya spun quickly, a pang of panic nipping at her chest. Did everyone know she'd sent for him… did he know? Is that why he was behaving so strangely?

"The Lord who was a smith? He talks about you all the time and you're always scowling at him… I just assumed. I'm sorry my grace." Daphne (aka dippy), looked appropriately shame faced but Sansa spoke up to calm the situation

"Excuse my sister, it's all very new to her lady Daphne." She smiled by way of explanation.

"I think it's a wonderful Idea." Daenerys said suddenly.

"I can't just parade about in a fancy summer dress while everyone is in furs, He'll think I'm mental." Arya argued, the three women looked thoughtful for a second.

"Queen Sansa would you do me the honour of trying on my dress?" Daenerys asked as she passed a teal dress of a similar design to Arya's, Sansa nodded excitedly and hurried behind the screen Daenerys didn't bother to move she shrugged her furs off and with the help of Daphne was pulling on her own garb. Arya didn't mind the nakedness; it was nothing she hadn't seen before.

"Lord Baratheon is in the yard with the King and Prince Jon, My Grace." Daphne, who must have only been four and ten scrunched her brow "we could walk across to the guest quarters and say we are going to show Lady Tyrell, the Queen and Princess in their new southern dresses that you have gifted them!" The queen clapped her hands excitedly

"Of course, it is good form to showcase a gift from a fellow royal, very clever Daphne." The Mother of Dragons smiled happily.

Arya was not happy, all of this sounded frilly and ridiculous. Like something Sansa would have thought up in Kings Landing to try and get Joffrey's attention. But that was her role now was it not? For her sister and family, to be a princess.

"Do not worry little princess, you are still you. You will pull your breeches back on later and play with your sword again. We are not trying to change you nor "make you over", merely show you that your role is not as rigid as you think" Daenerys said soothingly in her ear as she eyed her reflection in the polished brass again.

"I think he'll faint when he sees you my grace." Daphne who she'd avoided talking to, was actually growing on her.

"Thank heavens for the hot springs, or we'd all freeze." Sansa added as she joined the group before the polished brass.

"We still will" Arya said sullenly. "this is ridiculous"

"Now you don't have to say anything Arya" Sansa giggled ignoring her sisters protest "We'll just walk by and if Jon asks Daenerys will tell him we are off to show our gifts to Margaery."

"the hems will get all dirty" Arya said for the first time in her life, she instantly hated herself for it.

"Then we shall wash them." Daphne added sweetly "Come"

"This is fun, it feels like so long since we've just done something silly and pleasurable, doesn't it?" Sansa chuckled breathily, Daenerys took her arm and nodded agreement. This didn't feel like fun to Arya, it felt nerve wracking, before she knew it they were crossing the courtyard and the crash of swords that had been a constant that day, stopped suddenly. The cold bit at her exposed flesh and caused goose pimples to erupt, she raised her eyes from their current foot staring home and scanned the yard as she walked at the back of the pack, the three more assured women grouped ahead.

Gendry dropped his sword and took a step back as his eyes fell on the group.

"What are you lot up to?" Jon asked, as predicted.

"I brought these dresses as gifts for the royal sisters we intend to show them to Lady Margaery, she has the best eye for these things." Daenerys said lightly "Don't they look beautiful?" Arya wasn't quite sure how he moved so fast without making a racket but in the blink of an eye Pod was at Sansa's side grinning broadly "My love" he whispered causing her to giggle. Arya actually felt a lurch in her stomach, a little pang of regret or jealousy, she wasn't sure. She squared her shoulders and turned again to look at Gendry, Jon was saying something "they look lovely, and cold" when Arya's eyes caught Gendry's again he took another step back this time tripping over his sword and falling onto his arse. "He fell over! I was close." Daphne whispered into her ear before following after her Queen who had moved off… there was another clatter of armour and she noted with a slight chuckle that Podrick had thrown his breastplate off and had lifted his queen clean off the ground, cradled her in his arms and was walking back towards the keep.

Arya looked back to Gendry, still sat in the mud, eyes still fixed on her, mouth still agape. She smiled a confused smile that said "Idiot boy why are you sitting in the mud?" he grinned and shrugged back before a blush crept up his face and he looked away suddenly only to look back at her again, Arya did something she'd never done before… she didn't do it deliberately… her body moved of its own accord, her head dipped slightly as she looked down then back up at him through FLUTTERING EYELASHES… she cursed the hairs on her eyelids for twitching so prettily. His arms dropped to his side as a whoosh of breath appeared to leave his body.

"Come now your Grace, we don't want you catching sick." The voice of Daenerys snapped her out of the strange silent ritual that seemed to be occurring between her and the idiot bull headed boy who made her eyelashes flutter.


	16. Chapter 16

Tyrion

He couldn't deny how happy he was to have his Queen by his side again, she was his world and he served entirely at her pleasure. It was the first devoted relationship he'd had and ironically it was completely platonic. Debasing the queen would mean taking her from the very solid pedestal he'd erected for her, and that would shake his entire belief system to its core. No, his queen was his queen, but she was very lonely indeed, and he did wish she'd take a husband. She had been spending the day with the Stark girls, it was nice that they were friends. It was often hard for a queen to find an equal, so the relationship between the Targaryen and Starks was a particularly rare and unusual one.

He sat patiently in his Queen's royal caravan, where she conducted all private briefings away from the prying ears. Nothing nefarious of course merely plots and plans to keep the realm stable and the people fed.

"I really won't miss this cold." She said as she finally entered unsurprised by his being there.

"I enjoy it, makes me feel alive your Grace," Tyrion said handing the Queen a glass of Dornish wine.

"Don't enjoy it too much, I need my hand back at home. I miss your council; I miss your company… I have no one to drink with now. I'll be happy when these Starks are settled" She joked as she sank into a chair. "I've legitimised that Baratheon now I want him tied this side of the neck, the last thing I need is Arya running off and the legitimate son of Robert Baratheon looking for something to do."

"I do hope you see the irony in you forcing everyone else into a marriage while casually avoiding your own lone status… I cannot be your surrogate husband forever your grace" he was the only one who could talk to her like that, he'd earned it.

"I am cursed." he was also the only one who knew. He had pushed her to tell Jon. He was aware that if Snow knew the truth, that his aunt could possibly not bear heirs, then his honour and integrity would force him into action.

"For every curse, there is a counter My Grace, when we return to Kings Landing I want for us to seek council with a member of the Red order. Magic swings both ways, as you tell it, she took your baby's life for his but to take your fertility seems like an unfair trade… from what I have read magic is all about fair trades, one thing for another." He had read about it extensively since she had told him, weepily, months ago when Jon had refused to marry… again. His study was part of the reason he'd travelled up north, Winterfell had a vast and detailed library all about the first men and the children of the forest, magic and the balance of things. "You will have an heir, but if you tell Jon… I believe he will help you." He cajoled further. There was a knock on the door 'Ah, right on cue' "come in" he called, and the door swung open, Jon Snow stepped in looking uncomfortable in the opulent carriage.

"Thank you for joining us," Daenerys said as she eyed Tyrion with a little ire, though refusing to acknowledge her shock to Jon.

"Tyrion told me you wished to speak with me." Jon was ushered into a chair by his aunts waving hand.

"I do, have you chosen a wife?" she asked bluntly, Tyrion sometimes wondered where her tact went when it came to her nephew.

"No."

she sighed at this and shook her head. "Jon… You are my blood and flesh and bone…" he nodded "You have to marry; you have to reproduce because…" Tyrion watched in pain as his queen swallowed bitterly "I may not be able to."

"What?" Jon asked suddenly.

"Please don't make me repeat myself, Jon." His queen looked beaten, so he stepped in to aid her.

"She doesn't know for certain, but there was magic involved and… Jon, you are half her, her brother and your mother loved each other, and you are the product. She needs your help Jon; she is family, and needs your help." Tyrion appealed to the hero, the God sent, fire sword wielding warrior brought back from the dead.

"fine." He said moodily, Tyrion thought it almost too easy. Was that all it took to sway the hand of the North, appeal to his hero complex? "Lady Tyrell."

"Might I ask why? There are younger girls with less baggage in the court." Tyrion was curious, he also felt a slight burden of duty to Jon, as much as he needed him married he did not want to see him destroyed.

"She wants to leave Kings Landing." He shrugged simply.

"And you're going to rescue her," Tyrion stated, well that made perfect sense in the brain of Jon Snow.

"I think it a fantastic choice" Tyrion saw his queen waver at Jon's sullen expression "You needn't marry right away; she could stay behind to help Sansa gather a court you could see if you could love her?" Daenerys said hopefully, trying to cajole Jon. "Jon, I know you have lost love before and feel you can't do it again but, I have lost love too… we must keep loving otherwise it was all for nought." She smiled a sad smile that pulled at the heartstrings of her Impish hand.

"I will marry her, there's no point delaying it… If we wait for me to fall in love I fear, we will wait forever." Jon too smiled sadly and looked at his feet. 'They're definitely related' he thought as he poured and sank another wine in mere seconds.

"I want you to delay," Daenerys said resolutely, "Tyrion made a very valid point about the irony of my actions lately, I shall leave Lady Tyrell behind because I know she desires it, her maids and Daphne shall also remain for company. But they are here to act as Sansa's court and to offer the queen female companionship." She cleared her throat "If the time comes that I am sure I am unable to produce an heir; I will turn to you then… knowing you were willing to do it despite your personal feelings was very noble my nephew, but I fear I am being rather hypocritical by forcing you into something which makes you unhappy." Jon smiled a relieved smile, perhaps his Queen was right, maybe the heartbreak Jon Snow had felt during the war was altogether too much to stand.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Another double upload tonight, as it's Wintertime and Jon's chapter was so short. Thanks to those who have reviewed.

Arya

Lady Daphne Dewitt was not as annoying as she'd first thought though she did still vex Arya with her silly notions and frilly giggles. It had therefore shocked the princess to learn that the girl of ten and four had served with her father on the field as a battle nurse when she'd helped the North and The Queen take Kings Landing. The Lannisters had killed her older brother, which had resulted in her fierce loyalty to the Dragon Queen and all who helped her. Daphne was wilder than Arya had expected and enjoyed riding with her and Rickon as well as joining in the hunt. Gendry didn't ride or hunt with them, it had been days since he'd fallen over and she'd barely seen him since.

"He's shy" Daphne had cooed as Coralline helped her into the Dothraki riding pants Queen Daenerys had gifted her. They were almost indecent given how tight they were, Arya loved them, she pulled the decorative shoulder plate and leather strap over her small white blouse, she looked battle ready.

"I'm going to talk to him" she stated finally as she allowed Coralline to braid her hair loosely.

"Good!" Her handmaid and Daphne said in unison, patting her on the shoulder.

"The queen leaves tomorrow, and as I am to stay here, I really should go and say my goodbyes," Daphne said as a way of excuse before leaving the Princess and her maid.

"she's a nice girl." Cora said in a non-committal voice.

"she is but she can't sword fight, and she doesn't know any dirty jokes, so you're still my favourite." Arya smiled happily at her handmaid who was so much more than that.

"good." Coralline said as she completed the braid and tied it off "Now go talk to that Idiot mute boy."

Arya marched determinedly at first, but as she drew closer to the forge, she suddenly felt anxious 'play the part' she told herself over and over again 'play the part of someone who knows what they are doing' she breathed as she pushed open the wooden door quietly. He stood shirtless and alone, she had expected this, Gendry was only permitted to work in forge out of hours. The armourer wasn't comfortable giving orders to a lord. She watched for a second as his filthy muscles flexed in the glow of the searing forge, he plunged the blade he was working on into the flames before drawing it back and slamming his hammer once, twice, three times. She cleared her throat, and he turned, dropping the hammer to the ground before cursing under his breath.

"Sorry Milady." He said as he rested the sword on the anvil and crouched to pick up his hammer, it took him longer than expected to stand again, their eyes met, and he remained silent.

"Gendry, why won't you talk to me?" she asked, tact and womanly wiles be damned. She was Arya Stark and as much as it made her tummy flip to bat her eyes at him, she couldn't live in this eternal silence any longer.

"I…" he started but his brow furrowed and he stopped.

"What?" she stomped her small booted foot into the ground, and he noticed her legs, those riding breeches only he'd apparently never seen breeches that looked like a layer of skin before, 'indecent' she thought again, and it thrilled her. "Spit it out, you bull-headed idiot boy who's ignored me for weeks!" she shot, and this seemed to wound him.

"I wasn't ignoring you my Grace."

"Stop calling me that Gendry, I'm Arya or Arry or whatever you want but not Milady or Grace. And you were ignoring me, and I found it vexing." She stomped again and watched as he forced his eyes away from her legs.

"I wasn't ignoring, I just didn't know what to say, and Lyle said If I was worried about saying something out of turn or wrong I just shouldn't speak." He kicked at an invisible rock and looked at his feet again.

"Lyle is a child Gendry! You took the advice of a little boy which was to just not speak?" she chided but fought to hide her smile.

"I… I just don't know what to say to you." He sounded sad she thought, or annoyed… she couldn't tell.

"I'm sorry I'm putting you under such great strain m'lord." Her feelings were hurt, he had nothing to say to her, and that hurt her deeply, which vexed her more "I'll endeavour to give you space." She nodded curtly and made to leave the forge but was shocked when she found his hulking mass blocking her.

"I didn't mean it like that Mi… Arya… this is what I mean, I've barely said a word to you, and already I'm upsetting you. I don't want to upset you." He sounded so serious, so burdened by the idea of hurting her that it made her heart thud.

"We were friends Gendry, we used to sleep on the same mat side by side!" she exclaimed "for a little while all we had was each other remember?" his face turned more solemn still as his eyes failed to meet hers.

"and then I abandoned you, didn't I?" he sounded so little yet so angry, her heart thudded uncomfortably again.

"I ran away too…" she stated soothingly.

"I couldn't have come with you, though, you know that? If you'd reached your family we couldn't have stayed friends" he wasn't accepting her forgiveness, he'd rehearsed his reasoning.

"yet here we are, in the heart of my family… with me trying to be your friend and you ignoring me." She stated before giving him a prod with a sheathed sword she'd picked up from the work bench.

"I told you I wasn't ignoring you." His tone was slightly less morose, but he still looked uncomfortable and sullen.

"Then pray do tell me Lord Baratheon why you have refused to talk to me let alone make eye contact with me? Except for the time my Queens dressed me up like a doll and paraded me through the yard and you gawked like I had two heads." she placed one hand on hip and pointed the still sheathed sword at him menacingly.

"I didn't gawk…" he stopped himself again swallowing hard.

"Spit it out Gendry!" she prodded him once more, this seemed to annoy him dragging him away from whatever inner turmoil was at work in his stupid bull head.

"It's different now…" he stammered by way of explanation, but Arya was unsatisfied she prodded him another time on his naked torso, and he flinched and let out an angry yell.

"How so?" she asked, and he growled at her. "remember, I'm a massive pain in your arse Gendry! That was our way wasn't it" she prodded again.

"Stop it, Arya." He barked

She prodded "not until you explain to me why you've been ignoring me, it's been horrible… I spend all this time missing you and then I finally see you again, and everything seems fine and then suddenly you shut me out like I'm a ghost" she prodded "I. Want. To. Know. Why" each word punctuated by a small yet firm prod of the sheathed sword.

"You're not a little girl and I'm not a boy" he stated as if this explained everything.

"yes I'm aware of the notion of the passing of time, you're hardly an old man and I'm not even twenty. What, are you too old to be my friend?" he looked at her like she was dense.

"Arya I don't know how I'm supposed to behave around you."

"Like you always have you, idiot." She prodded him, but this time he grabbed the sheath and pushed the blade down, she still had a grip on it but he'd stepped forward closing the space between them ensuring there was no room for her to raise it again and continue with her prodding.

"That's not possible." He cleared his throat crossly.

"why?" she whined, if he liked her like they all said he did why didn't he want to spend time with her.

"Because it would be… improper for me to wrestle you or throw you about like I used to." She smiled in spite of herself at the memories of him pinning her to the ground and tickling her before climbing off her all red faced and bashful or when he'd just randomly grab her and throw her into a haystack always careful not to play too rough.

"I wouldn't mind." She grinned, she wondered if these were her womanly wiles kicking in or if she just wanted to be thrown in a stack again.

"Arya you're a woman."

"I am currently aware of my gender, but thank you." She smiled and took a further step towards him, she wasn't sure what she planned to do… perhaps attempt to wrestle him and cajole some sort of fond memory, therefore forcing him to befriend her again or maybe she just wanted to stand closer to him. He still refused to meet her eye, and she sighed.

"Well if being in my presence makes you this uncomfortable I shall encourage my sister to find you a keep far from my horrifying effect. Clearly, you don't want anything to do with me." She knew she was dramatic but when she took extreme measures it usually forced him into some sort of action.

"wait." He held her by the arm

"are you going to explain yourself?" she asked looking up at him forcing him to meet her gaze.

"Fine." He said, and to her shock he grabbed her by the hips and lifted her onto a bench, sitting her there he took a step back and grabbed his shirt from the opposite bench.

"You've got me all dirty." She said but didn't sound at all annoyed as she watched him pulling it on but not buttoning it, it was already filthy, but he seemed hesitant to dirty it more by buttoning, he looked at his hands and sighed. "come here." She murmured, and for the first time, he did as she bid stepping close to her closed knees.

Without moving from her seat, she leaned forward and did the buttons on his shirt "now you're decent, explain."

"I am base-born."

"You're a Lord" she countered.

"I wasn't a few weeks ago, a few weeks ago I was barely a ser." He continued "I never stopped thinking about you, but I knew no matter what we could never be… friends because I am base born and you are a Lady… a Princess."

"But now we can," she said helpfully "but for clarity, I would still want to be your friend…Gendry you're the only person who has every really liked me… not out of family obligation but just because. I wouldn't trade that because you're not a Lord." This seemed to stop him in his tracks, he hadn't expected this at all.

"when I asked Sansa to look for you I didn't know you were Robert's Son." She stopped, her eyes widened as she realised what she said.

"you sent for me? Why?" It was Arya's turn to clam up, she looked for an escape but realised his large body so close to her knees he had her pinned in place. "why?"

"You were my friend, and I wanted to know if you were well." She lied. "so there… but none of this explains why you won't talk to me" she attempted to switch the focus back to him.

"I worry, that I'll say the wrong thing and you'll send me back or hate me like you did when I went with the brotherhood and…" he took a very steadying breath and focused his eyes directly on hers "Arya, your grace… you haven't just grown into a woman you've grown into a very pretty one, far prettier than I could have imagined and… I don't know how I should act, I don't know what's appropriate." He rubbed his face, leaving a black stain on his cheek which made her smile.

"You imagined what I looked like?" she smiled teasingly and nudged his knee with her toe, she caught sight of a brief grin before it vanished from his face again. "I imagined what you'd look like too, I thought you'd have gotten fatter" she smiled again, perhaps she could tease a natural response out of him. "I believe that you've actually turned out rather handsome." She continued with candour, terrified he'd go back to ignoring her at any second and relishing in this contact with him, however trivial. His eyes widened for a second "what? You're allowed to say I'm pretty but I'm not authorized to say you're handsome?" she nudged him with her foot again, that ghost of a grin popped up and lasted a little longer before vanishing.

She realised the best way to show he could speak freely to her was by demonstration, and so endeavoured to tell him things that perhaps a more cautious Arya wouldn't have.

"In Braavos I would wake up with nightmares. When I would close my eyes again, I'd pretend that you were beside me and that you'd throw your arm over and pull me closer when you thought I was sleeping like you used to. Remember?" she asked catching his eye, he nodded a blush creeping up his face again "You made me feel very safe, thank you." She let her foot linger a little longer on his leg. The only advice the queens had given her which seemed to be working was 'follow your instinct' everything she'd done up until now including their contact had been instinctual.

"Were you safe where you went?" he asked, still not looking at her but leaning into her a little closer.

She resolved to be honest with him, to a point "I was trained as an assassin so probably not" his eyes widened "I've killed people." She said, her voice trembled, she didn't want him to know she was dark and poisonous but she wanted him to know all of her.

"So have I" he responded nudging her knee with the back of his hand.

"did you like my dress?" she quickly changed tact now that they at least had some form of a conversation.

"Which one?" he asked staring at her knee and his hand which was an inch away from it.

"The one that knocked you off your feet and flat on your arse." She guffawed.

"it was pretty." His voice was quieter, but she persevered.

"you didn't think I looked ridiculous?" his eyes shot up at this, "I think I looked a bit preposterous, is that why you gawked?" she was doing that thing again where she looked at him through fluttering lashes and she had no idea why.

"I didn't gawk." He responded again.

"You did Gendry, your mouth was open and everything." She was back to teasing him, she leaned into him a little, a small but adamant part of her brain encouraging her to move closer to him.

"you looked…" he started.

"If you say pretty again I'll kick you." She joshed.

"perfect" he finished.

Well, she hadn't expected that, though she didn't exactly know what it was she expected, it hadn't been that "oh" was all she could manage, he looked away again and made to step back.

"You've not said anything wrong Gendry" she grabbed his shirt sleeve to stop him moving away. "I was just teasing… like before. Remember?" she sighed and worried he'd never be the same with her.

"your Grace."

"I don't know how else to show you I am not _Your_ Grace I am your Friend!" she exhaled with exasperation then allowed her instinct to take charge again, she grabbed his soot-covered hand and raised it to her own face smearing black on her cheek like his.

"Arya, you said yourself… I'm filthy." He protested attempting to pull his hand away.

"I don't care." She pushed his hand onto her neck getting soot all over her collar and then her nose, he laughed he actually laughed. "come do something fun with me." She said with a playful grin, with her face dirtied like it had been when they were children he already seemed more at ease.

"like what?" he asked a smile dancing on his lips.

"come climb the first tower and look at the stars with me." She leapt from the table still holding his hand and dragged him with her.

"Arya…" he looked to protest but words failed him, and for the first time it made her glad, he followed willingly.


	18. Chapter 18

Jon

Jon was relieved that his aunt and her litter of women had finally left Winterfell, he was also pleased to see that, in the last two weeks, Arya and Gendry had broached a tentative friendship. They ate together, though usually Gendry only spoke very quietly to Arya who would mutter back, she spent her days training the men and sparring with Coralline and at nights she'd watch the Smith, hammer in the forge. Jon thought it was strange how every evening she'd sit on that same workbench and hold her knees to her and just watch him, Sansa later informed him that Arya had watched Gendry work when she'd been a child, that it was an odd little bond that they could still share.

His own relationship woes were significant, Margaery was less than impressed with his recent actions: "The Queen says I'm to be left behind but not as your bride?" she had accused in a harsh whisper with a prod to his chest.

"I thought you'd be happy Lady Tyrell?" he had felt very hard done by when she'd jabbed him.

"Happy? I'm being left by my Queen in the North, still a spinster, still no prospects… I'll be a laughing stock, Jon Snow." She snipped.

"You'll find a nice Lord up here in the north." He'd attempted to comfort her with these unlikely words, most of the Lords were ancient and well married.

"I don't want a different Northern Man, I wanted you" his jaw had dropped slightly, was this some sort of declaration? But she continued with a scornful brow "Oh don't look so shocked, you oaf, I'm not harbouring some secret maidenly feelings for you. I was trained my entire life to marry a prince and breed princes, you are a prince… of Two Kingdoms… you aren't a drunk, you aren't a lout, and for a moment I thought I could tolerate you, and now you do this. Everyone will think I fucked a wildling and had to be left behind to birth his bastards. Because I am Margaery…" she shook her head solemnly before shooting him one last derisive look and stalking off.

That interlude had been weeks ago, and since then she'd barely looked at him. Jon hadn't cared really; he didn't have time for trivialities as winter was hitting some of the smaller villages hard and raiders from the last Bolton's had pillaged and flayed an entire hamlet leaving only one witness to tell of it.

"I'm sending the watch to patrol the forest but it's a lot of ground, we've got some wilding trackers aiding us" Jon had said when Sansa asked what was being done about the Bolton's

"I want the keep guard and my personal guard on alert… I wouldn't put it past them to raid us. They must be starving." She'd said in response and if she was scared her face didn't show it.

Jon had given instruction to the men, spoken to his wolf… he wasn't sure if Ghost could understand him, but he always gave instructions just in case "I want you and Nymeria on the alert pup, protect the Queen at all cost." He'd eaten his dinner and had a word with Gendry who seemed if not comfortable then at least a little less uncomfortable, now he looked forward to his bed and the peace that sleep brought. He pushed his door, a figure stood in the dark, he drew his sword.

"Really? The sword again?" Margaery was leaning against the fireplace a goblet of wine in her hand wearing her dress of the sheer, southern, flesh exposing variety. Jon swallowed, the tempting promise of human contact swam in his brain, the idea of feeling that burn of skin making his heart beat considerably faster. Ghost padded into the room, not at all phased by the intruder, he looked around with a determined glance before deciding 'all was well' and padded away again.

"How do you keep getting in here?" Jon asked. He locked his door when he left and when he returned, unlocked it, the same thing every day.

"I picked it." She said plainly as if this were the norm "have a drink with me." Her tone was still biting, but she held a goblet out to him.

"I really should sleep." Jon's self-preserving shield rose, prepared to defend what was left of his undead heart.

"You can sleep when you're dead… but you already know that don't you." She thrust the goblet at him again, and this time he took it.

"You know?" he asked, of course she did everyone did, but it still sometimes shocked him that it wasn't a secret. It was hard to rise from the dead in front of a lot of people and not become notorious for it

"There's a song about it Jon. Drink" she nudged the goblet he was grasping up to his lips. A thought popped in his head 'didn't her family murder Joffrey with poisoned wine?' his hand stopped, and he looked at her suspiciously "Why? Why are you so keen on me drinking?" she sighed dramatically taking a step towards him and holding his goblet toting hand in hers. She pulled the cup and his hand towards her mouth, standing on tiptoes she took a slow sip all the while staring into his eyes "see, just wine" she said after she'd made a great show of swallowing. Jon had heard stories of seduction, of women trained in the art of sexual warfare… if there were a Nights Watch of Seductresses he assumed Margaery would be Lord Commander, there was something about looking at her that seemed to make your mind filthier and the worst part was she knew it. He drank.

"good" she did not step back. Instead, she opted to remain close, and Jon suddenly became very self-conscious of her proximity.

"What are you doing her Lady Tyrell?" he asked with almost desperation in his voice.

"I have realised these past weeks of receiving ravens from my mother asking me if I've fallen foul of a wildling king, that you and I are perhaps not as alike as I thought. I wrongly assumed that you, like I, were a critical thinker who understood how the world works. I see now that you're an idiot who thinks he can be as powerful as he is and not shore up his futures with a wife and an heir and a keep. Instead, you stay here reliving the life you never had, where you're the little Lord of Winterfell and Sansa is kind to you, and it's everything you ever wanted." It stung, he wouldn't deny it, but it stung nonetheless. Perhaps that _was_ what he was doing here, the Lord of Winterfell… he took another sip of wine turning away from her. "I apologise, Jon, I know that was harsh." She took a breath and for the first time seemed unsure of herself "I have spent a very long time saying the things people want to hear and… well, I've decided not to do that with you. If only because it wouldn't work" She cleared her throat, and he finally turned back to her.

"It still doesn't answer what you're doing here?" he was irritated now; nobody should be able to pick you apart as quickly as they did a lock.

"Well as you are not going to be reasonable I now have to pursue you, I foolishly made my play towards you which has cut off all other routes… hence my energy must be put into making the only man in Westeros with a working cock and a liking for girls who doesn't want to fuck me… want to fuck me." She raised her eyebrows playfully and took another sip. It was unsettling, she spoke like a raper on the wall or a wildling. "If I were you I'd just unlace my breaches and take me, it's an inevitability Jon, resistance is futile."

"I think I get a say in this Lady Tyrell, you can't control me I'm not a pawn in one of your court games." He was equal measures scared and aroused, mixed with the headiness of the wine he didn't know if he was going to cum or throw up.

"Jon Snow… this is not a game. It is my life. It is my fertility, my one use on this godforsaken land where you have all the power and me none." Her brows furrowed furiously, and she stamped her foot in a rage "I have been passed from man to man like a coin, I have smiled and acquiesced. Now for the first time, I attempt to make my own match, a good match, a match I am not repulsed by, and you decide to be the one man who doesn't like firm breasts and a pleasant face?"

"You are very beautiful Lady Tyrell, it's not your beauty that is in question." He really didn't want to have this conversation, he wanted to be left alone where he could grieve for his lover and punish himself for even imagining being unfaithful to her ghost.

"No, it is _you_ that is the problem your Grace, of that I am fully aware… You've been sorely hurt Jon Snow, and you've let the hurt fester, and now you think it will never dissipate. We lived through a war Jon, everyone lost… every single person lost. But you push forward if not for yourself then for your sister, for this bloody kingdom you love so much… you push forward" she seemed to take her own advice trapping him between the foot of his bed and her body as she pushed forward, her goblet was gone from her hand he assumed she'd put it down, but he wouldn't be surprised if she'd thrown it in frustration. It appeared to him that the lady Tyrell was not told 'no' as often has he had been, she didn't seem to take it well. She looked up at him doggedly, she was going to kiss him he was sure of that, but rather than stop her he waited, he wasn't sure what for. His life had lost much of the adventure it had once held, this was something out of the ordinary… curiosity is what he settled on, but even his conscious brain knew he was in part lying to himself.

He expected her to be rough, to slam her mouth onto his and force him to kiss her, the set of her shoulders and the furrow of her brow made him almost sure, but then she did something strange something that might have seemed chaste for another girl. A kiss to the very corner of his mouth, a slow and wet and almost searing caress. She leaned back again evaluating his face, he remained still, just looking at her in a frozen expression of confusion. She tilted her head as if planning her next wave of attack before leaning in again and placing another slow and searing kiss on his stubble covered jaw her mouth lingered a little longer than before, her lips parting a tiny bit more, the inside of her lower lip dragging against his coarse, short hair. He let out an involuntary sharp exhale, and she hummed appreciatively repeating her motion of leaning back and evaluating him again, something in his face made her smile with satisfaction. He started slightly when he felt her fingers on his collar she was pulling the linen away, slowly manoeuvring her head into the crook of his neck, he felt her inhale him, and it made the hairs on his body stand to attention. Even his follicles betrayed him, she was the commander, and his body was hers to command. He knew he could stop her at any time, his brain poured excuse after excuse onto his conscious 'you're curious', 'you don't want to hurt her feelings,' 'you're not moving so technically you're not taking part.' No matter how much his brain tried to justify and explain what was happening the part of Jon that was always true, sang out 'You've not stopped her because you don't want her to stop.'

Her lips found their spot on his pulse, hot pressure, wet, the brush of teeth, and then she retreated again. He was surprised he wasn't swaying as all the blood seemed to be rushing to one part of his body.

She pursed her lips and drew them to the side, she was thinking, her brow furrowed "and now I find myself in a quandary," she said slowly, he remained silent.

"Do I stay and see where else you like to be kissed, and run the risk of pushing too hard or do I walk away now. Knowing I am leaving you wanting?" she hummed and drummed her fingers on his chest.

"I must be unselfish, I must go" a part of Jon groaned with disappointment. "One more for the road, as they say," Lady Tyrell leaned in for one last time, she seemed undecided on her final resting place until she found it, his mouth she kissed with only slightly parted lips. He didn't know how but his bottom lip was resting quite snuggly between her own, she pushed a tiny bit harder and to his and her surprise he reciprocated by matching her force. He raised his hand unsure of what to do with it, but before he could decide she withdrew "progress" she smiled before curtseying and taking her leave of him once again.

"God's help me" he groaned as he attempted to will his erection away, he had been so tired before, so ready for the comforts of his bed but now… he groaned again grabbing his sword up and marching from the room, intent on swinging his blade and if that failed he'd, well he'd have to 'help himself.' When you spent your entire life sleeping in rooms with other boys and then men, you never got into the habit if it could be helped, even with his own rooms Jon still felt self-conscious at the notion.

As it transpired the sword fighting nor the self-gratification helped, that was his first sleepless night spent over Margaery Tyrell. When she'd seen his blackened eyes and pale sleep deprived skin the next day she'd grinned and repeated "progress" before sauntering off with Sansa and Daphne… he groaned.


	19. Chapter 19

Arya

She would happily admit that their current predicament was entirely her fault, it had been _she_ who'd forced Gendry to join Rickon's nameday hunt, and it had of course been on her demand that they break up into groups, and yet again it was her fault that they'd walked in the wrong direction… she had been eager to get him alone and force him to wrestle with her, the notion had been with her since first he mentioned that they weren't allowed to anymore. The fact that she had been told she couldn't mixed with the strange new desire to get close to Gendry made for a potent motive. It stood to reason that their current predicament, tied back to back in a bandit's camp, far from help with no weapons, was entirely her fault too.

"This is all your fault," Gendry said as if to confirm what she'd already been pondering.

"I thought you could only be nice to me?" she spat back, wiggling her pant leg up enough to expose the small line of chord she always kept tucked in her boot. The bandits, thankfully not Bolton's but Frey's, were engrossed in an argument about what to do with the prisoners. Gendry's base born accent and her plain tunic made for convincing townsfolk, they didn't know what they had so weren't showing it much care.

"what are you doing?" Gendry spat.

"tell me if they're coming" she whispered, he had the better view of the hunched Freys.

She managed to lift her legs and bend enough that the chord was in her fingers grasp, it was already prepared with a loop at either end, so she threaded it over the rope binding her hands and in-between her wrists, then with great dexterity hooked her feet into the loops. She peddled her legs as far and as fast as she could in their bound state, she'd built up some slack from squirming and their pitiful rope tying. The motion created friction against the rope, which was not of excellent quality; her leather chord cut through her hand bindings with every foot push.

"They're looking," Gendry said through clench teeth.

"Stop that bitch from wriggling, if she wants to wriggle she can do it under the boys." A black-toothed, root of a man shouted, she moved her feet violently down, breaking the hand bindings, and she leapt up.

"Grab 'er" the black tooth shouted, and Arya grinned, Gendry was rolling about violently attempting to free himself, to save her.

A man lunged at her, and she side hopped him quickly, somehow managing to disarm him of his dagger at the same time "silly billy" she goaded, dancing away from him and shaking her leg bindings off as he lunged.

"Stop fucking about, grab the bitch and hold her down" two more men moved forward, the individual who had claimed needle was one of her new combatants. This made her grin widen, she flipped and suddenly was in front of the man who'd taken her precious blade.

"mine," she said childishly as she pulled it from his belt, slicing his belly as she went "oops" she heard Gendry roar her name, she didn't need to look behind her and she certainly didn't need the bull-headed boy's warning. She knew he was there, the first man again probably another dagger, without looking she swung needle around her head slicing through the bandit's throat. She felt the warm blood hit the back of her head, Gendry had gone silent, the Lord with his black teeth had three more men at his command. Of the three he'd already sent into the fight, one was most definitely dead what with his head partially severed, one was bleeding heavily from a gash in his gut, and the other looked to have shit himself.

"Get her!" Black tooth screamed furiously, his men did not move "I'll do it myself then you sorry bastards." He drew a long and heavy sword; oh, he'd been a Lord once. Peasants didn't get swords like that and if they did they certainly didn't keep them.

"What's your name Bandit?" she asked as she shuffled her small feet back preparing to counter his far slower movements.

"I'm no bandit, you horrid little tavern whore, I'm Lothar Frey, rightful warden of the north and keeper of the twins." He bellowed as he raised his blade.

Arya made her move, swift as the wind she had dived beneath his raised arm, dragging her blade across his ribs. He stumbled forward and clutched at his side "What are you?" he asked, she didn't answer. "The punishment for treason is death Frey, my father taught me that a true ruler does their own dirty work." She lunged forward, needle slipped through his neck effortlessly, like he was a man made of butter. "I am the wolf girl, and you killed my family." As she knew it, he'd been instrumental in the Red Wedding, she'd been looking for him but had given him up for dead, what luck. She looked to the men left standing "You think you'll do better?" there was a snarling from her back, Nymeria was finally here, she'd been calling to her for hours since they'd first been caught. Her 'captors' shook their heads furiously.

"Leave, tell your friends what you saw. The Starks are warding the North." Nymeria added a sharp-toothed growl for effect, other wolves seemed to be creeping from the dark, those of the bandits who could run did. The fat man who's belly she'd cut crawled a few feet before a small wolf who could no longer smell the blood lunged for him.

"This is not going to be pretty." She said as she cut Gendry loose of his bindings. "Move, or they'll think you're food too." She grabbed his hand and the two bags the bandits had relieved them of and ran from the clearing and wolf feast that was currently occurring.

"where are we going?" he asked after minutes of blind running, she had worried he wouldn't talk. He'd seen the worst of her, he'd seen the glee she took from death, she knew it wasn't pretty.

"Running water." She answered, pointing ahead to a stream. "Start a fire." She commanded directing him to a small clearing as she walked to the water's edge her pack in hand. She was glad that Cora sent her to hunt with a spare tunic, her maid had suggested that if they stopped to luncheon, she wouldn't want to be bloodied from the chase. She pulled the dirty tunic from her head, leaving her leather britches on, they wiped clean. Arya didn't bother looking to see if Gendry could see her, this wasn't about him, this was about getting that man's blood out of her hair. This was an attempt to scourge some of the death she'd accumulated. It was odd that an assassin would be so averse to having human blood on her, but Arya was. She knelt down by the stream, carefully she placed her hands onto rocks at the edge and leant forward, dunking her hair directly into the ice-cold water. It ached "Arya what are you doing?" She heard him bellow as he ran to her, she could smell smoke the fire must be burning. Odd, it felt like only minutes had passed, but now she thought it had been longer. She looked at him forgetting her bared chest "I need to get the blood out of my hair." She muttered, was she crying? She hadn't thought she was.

"here" he reached into his own pack and pulled a strip of linen "cover yourself." He could barely look at her, and she realised her breasts were making him nervous. She pulled the cloth across her wet chest, it made little difference as the fabric now clung almost transparent. "Gods" he groaned "Lie back" he commanded softly, Arya's brow furrowed and she worried for a second that this was all a dream "Lie back with your head at the bank and I'll wash the blood out… I used to wash my mother's hair. I'll help." He whispered he was looking at her with worry. Did she really look so sorry, she felt her face, and it was hot despite the ice water, tears still leaked from her eyes? She did as he bade, feeling decidedly unsure of herself. Death had been her gift to give, she had excelled in death and now killing for the first time since becoming Arya Stark again she found a part of her that hated it, the part of her that was Arya wept. He knelt by her head, deliberately avoiding looking any lower than her face. Gendry drew a small stone cup from his pack and dragged it into the water before pouring it onto Arya's hair and pulling his fingers through it. She lost count of how many times he repeated this action, she lay there letting him cleanse her.

"You're done," he said clearing his throat nervously. "Do you have a fresh tunic?" Arya nodded pointing to her pack, he dragged it to him and opened it handing her the rough spun clean fabric. Again, ignoring modesty, because why bother, she pulled the damp linen from her chest before dragging the dry tunic onto her frozen flesh. Arya was cold, colder than she'd been in years. She supposed she should move to the fire but stopped her chain of thought when she felt an arm slide under her legs and another cradle her back "You're shivering" he said by way of explanation as he carried her gently over to the now roaring flames. The fire burned, but she still chattered her teeth, the cold seemed to have seeped into her bones, and she cringed at the ache.

"I'm cold Gendry" she whined from her spot curled on the floor close to the flames, he lay at least eight feet away from her on the other side. "Come lie beside me." She chittered, Arya wasn't sure which part of her many complicated facets was at play this time, but she knew she wanted him near and needed his body heat badly

"It's not proper," he said softly, sympathetically, longingly?

"I just killed people, you saw my bare body by the river and washed my hair are we not a bit past proper on this adventure Gendry?" she asked in between teeth chatters.

"Your Grace…" he started, but she just groaned

"Here we go again." She pushed her weight shakily onto her feet and shuffled around the fire "I will come to you because I need to feel warm" she plopped down beside his prone frame. He was covering his eyes with the back of his hand, he shifted it slightly to peek out at her.

"Arya we really shouldn't," he said, but most of the fight was gone.

"We're not doing anything wrong, I'm cold, and I'm wet, and you're helping me to not die of cold wetness." She lay beside him and started her shuffle towards him.

"Arya, that's far enough." he chided, his tone warning.

"stop being such a baby Gendry, roll over so I can curl into you." Arya maintained her entire life that this request was not salacious, and as much as she thought she knew about men and bed play… she had no idea what this request really meant for Gendry.

"No!" he spurted loudly. Arya rolled onto her side to look at him

"Old Gendry would have done it!" she stated, her tone childish, but she found it was a side of her that he brought out.

"Old Gendry would have to do it because old Arya would lie beside him and tremble all night long making it impossible to sleep, it was the only way to make you stop… but we're not Old Gendry and Arya… I'm a man…" he started

"Not this again." She whined.

"And you are a woman and Arya it wouldn't be right." He looked so sombre.

"Fine" she resigned but did not lie back down, she stayed watching him "thank you." She said it softly

"For what."

"For stopping my trembles." She moved to place a soft kiss of gratitude on his cheek and perhaps steal a little warmth, but he turned suddenly, and she landed on his lips. When she tried to pull away shocked by the intimate contact, she found that she couldn't as his head tracked her every move keeping them linked as she drew back. His arm found her waist, pulling her roughly towards his hip forcing her head forward and his own in-turn back. His kisses were hungry, his free hand found her neck, cold from her wet hair and pushed forcing her mouth closer to his own. When she'd finally got the speed of things, and her stomach had stopped flipping she kissed back, revelling in the feel of his body pushed against her own as she partially lay on top of him. As suddenly as he'd started he stopped, he gently tried to push her away, but her hip kept his arm pinned beneath her and her hands clutched his shirt.

"Oi" she accused "You don't get to ruin my first proper kiss" she snapped.

"That was your first kiss?" he asked, his tone guilt ridden.

"No you idiot, I've been kissed loads, but that was the first one I didn't feel underwhelmed by. I got butterflies." She harrumphed, she had once been told her candour was disarming, she sincerely hoped this was true. His eyes were wide with shock "It was probably a fluke." She concluded.

"What?" ah yes bringing his effect on her into question seemed to have piqued his interest.

"It was probably because you surprised me." She made to pull away, but it was him stopping her this time.

"You kissed me!" he accused turning onto his shoulder to better confront her but inadvertently drawing himself almost nose to nose with her.

"I'll think you'll find m'lord that I was merely dropping a sweet and chaste kiss of thanks onto your cheek when you turned suddenly catching my lips, the shock tricking me into thinking it was a 'proper kiss.'"

"Of course it was a proper kiss" she watched as he chastised himself inwardly for engaging in her silly charade.

"fluke." She said stubbornly their noses bumped.

"wrong" he growled back.

"Prove it." She whispered letting her nose rest on his, and he looked like he was going to, he licked his bottom lip and it felt for a second like his mouth was moving closer but then;

"Princess Arya? Lord Baratheon?" their names being called from not so far away, the search party in full swing they shot apart from each other and both seemed to blush appropriately.

"Are you going to be all quiet and strange when we get back to Winterfell?" She asked candidly.

He nodded.

"Great." She huffed as she heaved her small pack and called "We're over here!"


	20. Chapter 20

Sansa

"I'm bleeding." She said woefully as Agatha combed her hair, they sat alone in her father's Solar.

"Your Grace, it has only been three months." Her handmaid soothed as she pulled the horse hair brush over the Queen's burnt umber locks.

"My mother fell pregnant in her first."

"Your mother wasn't under the pressure of a crown." Agatha reasoned as they'd had this debate on each of her bloods since the wedding. Agatha was well rehearsed.

"What if I am…"

"Don't say it, my Queen, it is far too early to even think it. You are torturing yourself for nought." Agatha placed a reassuring hand on Sansa's shoulder, the queen reached up one of her own to pat the serving girl a thank you.

"I just don't want to let everyone down." Sansa sobbed, her handmaid restricted by propriety softly uttered words of comfort, her hand remaining on her queen's shoulder.

There was a knock at the door, Agatha removed her hand and took a step away as swiftly as one could move, Sansa wiped her eyes and took a breath "Come in." she called, and the door squeaked open

"My Grace…" Maester Sam had an amused expression on his ball face.

"What is it Sam, I thought my business was done for the day" Sansa sighed wearily, she hadn't really done that much at all, but with the blood on her, she felt sore and irritable.

"Lord Baratheon wishes an audience." The Maester grinned again.

"Send him in," Sansa said attempting to school her features into those of a welcoming and warm host, the Smith Lord was skittish like a pony and could easily clam up.

"He's waiting in winter hall; he didn't want to presume by approaching the solar." Sam giggled a little, she supposed southerners would be slightly left-footed by her less formal style of ruling, but she was growing tired of Lord Gendry's silence and was actually more than a little intrigued by his request.

"Well go and get him." She chided.

"Lyle has already run down" Sam paused as though he were thinking deeply on an important matter, opened his mouth to speak but then seemed to think better of it.

"What?" she asked, her woes forgotten for now at the intrigue laid before her.

"I think it's best we allow Lord Baratheon tell you…" as though to punctuate his point there were loud clangings and Lyle's incomprehensible voice from down the hall "Ah, here he is."

Gendry, the hulking man her sister intended to wed always shocked Sansa when he was indoors. When he stood near the forge or out in the yard, he looked to be just a large man, but when he was forced to hunch through a door frame and hold his arms close to him, in the Solar one realised how absolutely massive his arms and chest actually were. Sansa couldn't help but imagine him stooping to kiss her petite sister, and the thought was disturbing… could a man be too big for a woman? According to the Queen of the South, the answer to that was no. Daenerys was a small lady but had reported her husband the Khal was bigger still than Gendry. The Lord Baratheon shuffled through the door his arms full of… something… covered with a large tarp, Lyle was entering behind, his small legs wobbling under the weight of a great armour dummy.

"Give it here." The Hound snatched the dummy from him, setting it up in the centre of the room.

"Thank you, Sandor," Sansa said with a nod, indicating he return to his post outside the door along with her other Queens Guard. Sandor, who had intended to leave her service once a replacement had been found, seemed incapable of finding a suitable replacement and so just remained as unofficial leader of the Queens guard and Sansa's personal body man.

"your Grace" his voice was small, tiny even. Gendry cleared his throat and tried again "Your Grace, you have shown me a great deal of kindness" Sansa made to speak but the Lord who was staring at his feet, as he had been taught to do when around noble born ladies, ploughed on.

"I have no real personal wealth to purchase a wedding gift … but I have my hands" at that Lyle, who it seemed had rehearsed this, ripped the tarp from Gendry's hands revealing that the Smith was holding a newly forged helmet and breastplate. "I know you have a large Queens guard, but I made this and showed the armourer how to…" he paused, stepping forward placing the helmet and plate on the dummy in front of Sansa. She took it in, the helmet of northern steel was the yawning mouth of the Dire Wolf, the teeth sharp, it looked practical, sturdy and reminded her of the hound's old helmet if it had had graceful wisps of hair chiselled into it. The detail was incredible, the breastplate again featured the wolf, this time on its side like her house crest in raised metal again containing fine detail. "The armourer's awaiting your approval your Grace." He concluded, never once looking her in the eye. His vocabulary had improved these past months, it seemed Arya was doing more than just getting him kidnapped by bandits, or perhaps it was Lyle's assistance. Irrespective she was pleased.

"Lord Baratheon…" she stopped, she knew how uncomfortable he was "Could I have a moment alone with his lordship?" she indicated for Lyle, Agatha, and Sam to retreat. Gendry looked panicked, and she thought that perhaps this wasn't her best move, after all, what if he thought he was in trouble. The room cleared, and she started again "My Lord, these gifts are perfect, my brother has been on at me for months to give my decorated men… their decoration… if you will. You have more than crushed my expectations my Lord, this work is some the finest I have ever seen." He continued to stare at his feet, a blush creeping up his large and handsome face. "My Lord, please look at me." She cooed. She witnessed his internal struggle until he finally complied, his blue eyes meeting her own, his brow furrowed with fear and worry. "Thank you Gendry." She smiled, she wasn't sure if she was thanking him for the armour or the eye contact.

"please sit." She indicated the chair across the large desk from her.

He nodded and sat, his eyes returning to his knees "Gendry." Her tone was playfully chiding, he looked at her again, the first sightings of a grin twitching at his cheeks.

"Thank you, my grace." he said with a resolved nod, it seemed his internal struggle was over, for now, he was attempting to remain calm.

"It might be too much of an ask Gendry, but just this once, in my Father's Solar, the home of your kin's kin could you call me Sansa? I know you call Arya by her name and she is my sister and your… friend. And well, it would be agreeable if just for the next few moments I could be at ease with my sister's only friend." She recognised in him that thing that separated men like Jon and Pod from people like Joffrey and Littlefinger, that desire to put another person's needs in front of their own, she voiced her own discomfort in the hopes of spurring him into action, even if that action was a brief and casual conversation.

"Alright," he swallowed slowly "Thank you Sansa" his eyes darted about nervously, as though someone would jump out and take his head.

"Please have a drink" she slid a small glass of fortified wine over to him "My way of thanking you for my new Guard's armour."

"please don't feel they need to wear them, just because…" he started as he held the small glass in his massive war hammer hands.

"Nonsense, if the armourer approves then I agree, I can only comment on the look, and they look sublime." She grinned and took a sip, giving her time to think. She was growing weary of Arya's refusal to officially court Gendry Baratheon, she was even more vexed by the Baratheon Lord himself who although apparently smitten was unable to voice his feelings. Arya had scolded her only a week ago when she'd threatened to tell him that she'd sent for him to marry her 'He'll do it because I asked and then what? I'll never know if I'm just forcing him into a life he doesn't want!' Arya had wailed. She'd long given up denying her feelings, it was almost laughable how everyone but Gendry knew, but it wasn't helping Arya. She was moodier than usual and seemed in a constant state of anxiety, Sansa knew something must be done but given the uneasy nature of the pair of them she was terrified she'd make a wrong move.

"I'm very glad Arya has a shoulder to lean on here in Winterfell, I feel like what with my, Jon and Rickon having more time to bond she sometimes feels… out of the loop."

"I'm more than happy to… help." He was making a brave attempt to keep his eyes on the queen's face but still seemed unable to fully vocalise himself without fear of causing offence, it was Sansa's turn to persevere.

"You know my father and your father sat in this very room." She said whimsically, looking around at the tomes and scrolls and the worn tapestry. "Your father went to war for a woman he loved…"

"I've heard the stories, I'm not proud of who my father was your Grace" he was retreating, and she chastised herself "He wasn't half the king you are." He nodded softening his tone, which had harshened at the mention of his pater.

"Sometimes I question my own father's choices" she breathed, she'd not voiced this to anyone. The idea of besmirching Ned Stark seemed so disloyal, but her time in Kings Landing and even here on her own throne had caused her to reflect with a little more context on the actions of her beloved father "Lord Baratheon, Gendry… You have been a great council to my sister, so I too seek the same level of confidentiality with you. Can I trust you Gendry?" he nodded thoughtfully "Very well, I have considered the wars, the death and night from all angles. I know more of the background plays than most, and I believe my father naïve, either that, or he had so much pride in his honour it ended up getting the better of him. If he'd only said no to Robert, he could of, he was one of the few that could. If only he'd kept his theories on the Lannisters more discretely, trusted the right people… run. My biggest disappointment, however, is how he treated Jon, my mother was no monster if he'd told her the truth she'd have raised him as her own and protected him. She'd never have told a soul… and she wouldn't have hated him, she would have known father was as loyal as she believed. Instead, my cousin was raised to believe he was half, not whole… that he was less. The thing is Gendry we have all had to walk in different shoes these past years." Sansa had decided if he wasn't willing to talk then she was more than "That is probably why you and Arya have bonded, you both understand what it is to be thrust into a life you weren't born to… her life in Braavos and yours here. I lived as a bastard you know, during the war after I'd run from kings landing… that was when I learned that it doesn't matter, a person is only as worthy as they believe they are, as they are told they are. I was told I was nothing, and eventually, I started to believe it, but then I found Jon and he called me Lady Stark, and I wasn't nothing anymore… silly really. My point is this Lord Baratheon, you are not a lord because your father was king, you were made a Lord because you are worthy. You had protected my sister before you knew she was anybody and when you found out who and what she was you could have turned her in and made 'Something' of yourself but you didn't. If the queen of the south had denied your right to reclaim your family name I would have titled you myself, given you a new name… Because Lord Gendry Baratheon you are worthy of it." He was blushing, but a small, proud smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Thank you, Your Grace Sansa for such kind words" he managed to mutter.

"I only speak the truth." Sansa straightened "I wonder if I might pick your brain on another matter?" It was time to make her play. "My sister can never know we've had this discussion she'd be furious, do you understand?" Gendry seemed to really think it over, before nodding in agreement finally.

"She is to me married."

"Oh." Gendry finally makes an involuntary noise, Sansa attempted to hide her smile.

"To who is yet to be decided."

"Oh," this one sounded more relieved than the first.

"I want for it to be you." Sansa smiled, the play was made, Gendry was making an odd choking noise his eyes widening. Sansa tilted her head slightly, considering her next move "She knows nothing of this, she merely alerted me to your presence but having witnessed the bond you share, I believe it would be a good match." And now to soften the blow "I could be wrong of course, that's why I ask of you Lord Gendry perhaps you could attempt to court Arya… I understand that given my sister's nature this will probably need an unconventional approach. Is that something you think you'd like to do Lord Gendry? Do you think my sister would make you a suitable wife?" that's it, no mention of love. She kept her tone even and light, these were routine matters of business. Ever so gently placing the metaphorical carrot on the desk careful not to spook Gendry.

He swallowed again, she knew her words were a trap but she also knew the massive Smith Lord bastard loved her crazed wolf assassin sibling, he couldn't say no it would be an insult "Would I make a suitable husband Your Grace?" Ah! He wasn't nearly half as stupid as he looked with his furrowed brows and hulking muscles.

"Would I have asked you otherwise?" her tone was stern but her eyes still warm and smiling "I believe you may be the only suitable husband for her… but if you disagree, if you think you could not love her speak now Gendry and we shall continue our search" she cursed herself, she'd meant to keep love off the table but he'd caught her off guard, she'd honestly expected acceptance, that her invitation would be enough.

He rubbed his brow, and she heard his breath speeding up, did he think this all some elaborate trick? Perhaps. This was a post-war Westeros, everyone had a memory or two to haunt them "Gendry…" her tone was soft honey again "I'd like an answer please?"

"yes."

"Yes you disagree?" she clarified.

"No…" he took a steadying breath as he pulled at a loose thread on his jerkin "Yes I…I could love her." His voice was so slight, his eyes returned to his toes, but she'd got her yes.

"good, well be gone. Go attempt to court the wolf girl of Winterfell, may the old gods show you mercy." She smiled happily and clapped her hands softly as he stood, his face a mask of confusion and turned almost knocking over the dummy as he headed to the door "Thank you again Lord Baratheon, the armour was a thoughtful and beautiful gesture." He nodded without looking at her as he shuffled from the room attempting not to knock over anything else. Sansa grinned, her mind now fully removed from her previous worries, if only for the moment.


	21. Chapter 21

Gendry

After his meeting with the Queen, Gendry had headed to the armourer and his two apprentices, who all waited eagerly to find out if they'd finally have the order to fill that was more than mending the swords broken by the wolf princess. He nodded, and they showered him with 'Thank you m'lord's' the armourer informed him that he wouldn't be able to help with the rest of the work given his station but could oversee.

'You're a good lad for a lord, you can work on the repairs at night but only if you want to you understand?' The armourer who'd come to like him had told him in a hushed whisper while the apprentices hurried around them. And then what? Was he to go find Arya and force her to accept him? It felt like too much, too much indeed.

He wished that all those times he'd shrugged off the company of boys his own age to work on his helmet, that he'd stayed and listened. He'd never courted a girl, he'd had tavern wenches, and whores thrust on his lap while serving with the brothers, he'd even fumbled with a few of them. His feet pushed him towards the stables, and onto the horse, Arya had told him he could ride. Saddled and mounted he kicked off out of the eastern gate and past the barracks of troops who remained in Winterfell to defend the queen, Winter Town had grown as a result 'this is how cities are made' he thought ponderously as he pushed his horse harder. But to what end? He drew the reigns and slowed back to a trot 'If I leave I'll never be able to come back.' He said to himself as he guided the beast to a dirt path away from the sprawl of humanity surrounding Winterfell. 'and if I stay then what? Be a Lord' he scoffed at the notion, the noise made his horse start.

Nightfall had indeed taken grip when he managed to lead his horse back to Winterfell his mind no clearer than it had been when he'd left. He guided his mount back to the stables, the boys there asked no questions of him, he was a Lord and therefore completely free to do as he willed. With an empty stomach that still felt like it was full of lead, he plodded to the forge, a small stream of smoke still whirled, but he assumed the pit would be almost extinguished. It took him minutes to restoke it, it would be longer still before it was hot enough to be useful, so he pumped it with bellows forcing his anguish into every violent squeeze.

"Good, I can tell the others you're well." It was her, stood in the doorway of the smithy looking furious.

"What?" he asked dumbly, he knew very well what, but he was going to at least attempt to play ignorant in the face of her rage.

"You've been gone for hours, the stable boys said you took your steed and left! I was worried, Sansa thought you'd run off." He felt a pang of regret, he'd upset the queen and his Arya.

"Does she know I'm back?" he asked, anxiety creeping up his throat.

"Yes, one of the guards saw you trotting up and told her… Jon said you'd just been for a ride and probably lost track of time, is that right?" her voice was higher than normal, she was as anxious as him though he had no idea why. "Were you running away?" she asked her voice small.

"No!" he answered definitively, he started moving towards her propelled solely by the guilt he felt looking at her so defeated.

"You left me before."

"No!" He repeated himself, the pang of guilt had transformed into a full wave "I'll never." He managed to stop his feet halfway across the room, she'd taken a step in too.

"Promise me." She whispered, her delicate eyebrows raised in that earnest way she had about her.

"I promise." He said it with such conviction it felt like an oath.

"Can I stay while you work?" she asked, walking to her bench in the corner without waiting to hear an answer.

"Is it not too late?" he asked, he worried still about the trouble his horse outing had caused.

"I'm an adult, I don't have a Septa to tell me it's bedtime." She said, not looking at him, he noted for the first time the small bundle in her arms. She placed it on her bench before hauling herself up to sit beside it, she looked lovely in her dark cotton dress, it was odd to see her in skirts he wondered briefly why. The whole garment was cinched in by a thick leather belt she wore high on her waist reminding everyone that she was a woman. "You missed dinner," she said indicating the linen wrapped bundle "I brought you food." She held it out, inviting him to come to her. He felt for a moment much like a starving animal being lured into a trap, "some meat and a little bread and some cheese" she smiled encouragingly as he stepped to her. It probably wasn't her fault she smelled so lovely, she was bathed by her handmaid… he'd blame her. But the scent was glorious, like nothing he'd ever encountered in Kings Landing, something entirely new to his nostrils.

"Your face has gone all furrowed, are you alright?" she asked as she placed the care package into his hands.

"I'm fine, thank you." She drove him to the point of distraction, and the worst thing was she had no idea she was doing it, and it made him insane. Wordlessly he reached into the small package and withdrew the block of hardened cheese taking a bite before wishing he had water.

"I have wine." She was reading his mind as well as distorting it, "here" she pointed to a skin hooked to her belt "I was going to go looking for you if you didn't come back soon and I knew I'd need a drink to stop me from punching you." She said by way of explanation as she tossed it to him, his thirst overwhelmed any attempt to consider her words, so he drank swiftly before capping it and throwing it back to her.

He made his way wordlessly to the whetstone a few feet to Arya's left and picked up a dulled sword from the full basket on the counter which sat between them. He pressed his foot on the pedal, and the stone spun as he held the blade to it, and sparks flew, he looked to her, she was watching him and gnawing on her lips.

The queen herself had given him permission, but he needed more than that he needed her full consent a hard thing to get when you can't ask the question. He remained silent, hoping she'd fill the silence with her usual chatter.

"What if bandits had got you?" she asked, her voice back to small, she'd been worried.

"I stayed around the town." He lied, he had no idea where he'd gone he'd just ridden.

"I wouldn't have been there to save you this time." Her tone lightened a small smile tugging at her lips.

"I can look after myself." He grunted, not actually offended just glad that he could have these moments that felt so familiar.

"mmm." She said thoughtfully "Maybe, you could have taken them all by some miraculous fluke," she said, her eye's darted at him playfully.

That word, that same word she'd used to describe her 'first proper kiss' that word had plagued his brain since, like a worm burrowing its way down and now here she was tugging at it gleefully. He was staring at her; he knew he was, but his brain was failing him. Words, Wit, anything gushed through his spine and away from his mouth 'say something' his mind screamed "It wasn't a fluke." he said it 'NOT THAT!' his mind screamed in response, he tried to pretend he hadn't, hoping she'd just gloss past it.

"What wasn't?" she asked, but her grin told him she knew, he realised his whetstone hadn't moved in a while and pumped the pedal furiously giving him a second to think. He was officially supposed to be courting her, was he not? Foreign as the concept was, he could afford to indulge in seeing if this was more than teasing, could he not? He tried to answer these questions, on one side he was a base born mongrel who didn't deserve her and on the other Gendry was a Lord, and she looked at him in that way that he imagined ladies only reserved for their lovers but then on the other side he could be completely wrong.

"You know what." He opted not to retreat nor to advance but to hold, to see where she led him.

"Oh, you're talking about the silly kiss." She said it so lightly, so dismissively that it stung him, it actually hurt but he looked to her briefly again and saw her grin. She was playing with him the way her wolf played with food. He looked to his whetstone again, it was a lost cause he couldn't concentrate on not losing his fingers while she grinned at him so. Or perhaps she always smiled at him like that, but the knowledge that he was at least allowed to want her made it different.

"At the time, I had thought it 'proper,' but given how very extraordinary the events leading up to it were, I don't believe we can take it at face value… so fluke" her grin was gone, she was deadpanning which almost elicited a smile from him as he picked at the bread and busied his mouth on chewing it. He wanted to change the subject, 'say something!' his panicked brain screamed again.

"Why are you wearing a dress?" he asked, through a bready mouth 'NOT THAT!'.

"We were hosting a Lord from a keep a day's ride away, he stopped to sup. He's old, and Sansa said he'd be uncomfortable with the outline of my bum being visible." She shrugged "so dress." Gendry choked on his bread, she held her wineskin out again "more wine?" she asked sweetly. He snatched the skin once again and drank deeply, he worried briefly what strength of wine she'd brought knowing her it would be the strongest.

"do you prefer me in a dress milord?" she asked batting her eyelids dramatically, as she'd seen Sansa do in her younger days. He grinned stupidly, she was clowning, and he could tell by the silly expression on her face, but he answered anyway. He had agreed upon leading where she followed, and she had asked the question.

"I prefer you in anything my grace." He knew it wasn't the most eloquent of phrases, but he hoped it conveyed something to her.

"Oh." His response caught her off guard.

"Wine?" he asked, mocking her earlier tone and handing her back the skin she took it with a sly smile.

"The bull-headed boy grows bolder." She said with intrigue in her voice, shuffling forward on the bench to take a better look at him. "Oh, sorry bull-headed man, you've been very clear on that" even he chuckled at this. She was something else, something utterly different from the world around her. If she accepted him, if she married him, he'd be married to his best friend, his only friend. That prospect and sudden hope bolstered him.

"Arya…" he started but stopped. What should he say, words were his problem what he needed was action.

"Gendry?" she asked in response, there was something serious in the air.

Emboldened by her look, by the fact he hadn't run, which was almost a declaration in and of itself, he stepped to her perch on his work bench and slammed his massive hands either side of her making her start with a grin. "it wasn't a fluke." He grumbled, pushing his face a little closer to hers.

"Prove it." She whispered back just as she'd done in the forest "Mind you there's no guard to save…" her smart words were pushed back into her mouth by his lips on hers. The wine, he thought briefly, it must be the wine. He kissed her gently, careful not to hurt her but that changed when he felt her arms snake around his neck as she pulled herself closer to him, without thinking he swept one massive arm around her body and stood straight, pulling her up with him. Their lips never broke, but she let out a delighted squeal as he held her to him her toes grazing his lower knee. Her mouth demanded more, and she squirmed against him, her teeth found his lower lip and tugged gently demanding entrance he resisted at first, and she strengthened her bite ever so slightly. She moaned when he ran his free hand down the length of her side, he pulled his mouth from hers and noted with delight that she looked furious at him, he planted one more deep kiss on her lips before placing her back on the ground. She wobbled slightly, so he steadied her with a hand to the shoulder.

"told you." He said resolutely. "not a fluke." She blushed which was a rarity and chewed on her lip.

"not a fluke." She said her voice shaking a little. "I should be, I should get to bed." She said walking fleetingly in a circle before heading to the door, he smiled at her, he felt triumphant, all too often it has he who was left confused and breathless now it appeared to be the wolf girls turn. Or so he'd been allowed to think for a brief minute.

"I wish I'd been wearing my breeches." She said casually as she turned to look at him from the doorway.

"Why's that?" he asked, knowing full well he'd regret it. Arya had that look in her eye that said 'danger.'

"Well I could have got a better grip on you, and then you wouldn't have been able to put me down." She grinned before fleeing back to the keep, Gendry was left to feel breathless and confused.


End file.
